The Wish:To Bite the Hand
by M. N. Thomas
Summary: When Cordelia wished for a Sunnydale without Buffy Summers ...she left it up to Angel to stop The Master from rising - A now complete story feat. the origin of vamp Willow, well a version:)
1. For Peace Wherever He May Find Her

For Peace

F_or P__eace, W__herever _

H_e M__ay F__ind H__er. _

Through the blinds on his window, Angel watched as the sky bathed in the warm reds of the sun's afterglow whilst it set in the west. Within a few minutes, night would descend upon the world outside and those things that thrived within its shadows would feed upon its naivety. 

Tonight people would scream in terror as they faced the evils of their nightmares. God would have no mercy upon their souls as they disappeared in the darkness, never to return... 

That task belonged solely to the one they called the Slayer, the Chosen One. The one girl in the entire world with the strength and skill to protect the humans from his kind. His kind. Nosferatu, boucolac… 

Or as most now called them: vampire. 

And the Slayer was not here, though he prayed, she never came. She would never come here. 

Pulling on his black jacket, he scanned the copy of _The Hemery Herald that he kept framed on his wall and uttered a curse. The headline read, "Disturbed teen burns gym!" That teen had been Buffy Anne Summers and the gym had been overrun with vampires baying for blood. He'd been there at the time. Watching her from afar, the woman he longed for more than any other in the world. _

Watching her kill them, kill them all. 

Angel frowned. Now wasn't the time to question why the girl had failed to arrive. 

Why he'd been mad enough to come here. 

He needed to be out there hunting, saving human lives regardless of whether or not they were worth it (most were almost stupid enough to deserve death.), he had to try. Right now, he was all they had to save them. 

Turning his head back to his window, he caught sight of moonlight seeping through the blinds. They were out there, ready to gorge themselves on mortal blood… 

"Wish me luck Whistler." Angel muttered as he gathered up his wooden stakes to fill his pockets. 

How Whistler had persuaded him to enter this fight was starting to get beyond his understanding. Angel had trained to fight and to fight well, but when all was said and done he was a vampire. And a vampire was really only as strong as the next of his demonic 'kin' – however preternatural that strength was in the eyes of those he was attempting to help. 

But he had to try. 

Opening the door to his apartment, Angel slipped out into the night. It was time to even the score. 

Unknown to Angel, another vampire stood amongst the shadows of the building. His mortal name was Peter Mattherson though he did not notice Angel begin his walk into the outside world. 

Peter was too busy feeding. 

The girl's name was Marcie Ross, a mildly pretty little sophomore from the local high school. But what did that matter as long as she remained willing. Poor girl, she had no friends, no self-esteem, no life. Soon though she would begin a new life. Soon, she would experience sights and sensations she could never have dreamt of… 

"Marcie?" he said adoringly. "Marcie? Are you awake?" 

As hard as he tried not to, he always seemed to drain far too much blood from the ones that he wanted to keep. 

"P-ete," Marcie said groggily. "I don't feel… so…good…make it…bet-ter…." 

"It's okay," Peter replied, careful not to let his excitement come through. "I promised… but are you sure that you want to walk with me from the sun." He was hungry. He couldn't help but ask. 

"Cor-de-lia, Cordelia's blood… and Harmony," the girl moaned longingly. "I…wa-nt…. To taste...it…all…" 

Oh yes, this girl would kill her fair share. "Drink. I'll wait for you… I promise," Peter told her as he dug his fingernails into his neck and drew Marcie closer to him. "Drink Marcie, drink your way to happiness…." 

***

Marcie felt her heart race. One moment she was rapidly losing consciousness, the next it was back with a vengeance as she pressed her lips against the mysterious young man that she'd met for the first time, this very night. Never had she felt so alive, so vibrant as she did now, as she tasted his blood. Words failed her as she struggled to capture the essence of the flavour. All save one… 

Power, his blood was power incarnate… 

More! She had to have more… 

Moaning with pleasure she continued to drain him. It was beyond the sexual, beyond lust, beyond hunger. The feeling was beyond life itself. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, Marcie Ross knew that it was wrong. This man, this Pete had not lied to her for the sake of a perverse power game. Somewhere deep inside her heart she knew that the power she consumed was dark and unholy. But she wanted it. She would let nothing stand in the way of her ascension. Nothing! 

Not least, her immortal soul… 


	2. Prologue

Prologue

P_rologue_

Sunnydale was a quaint town with quiet law abiding people. From an outsider's point of a view, it was a curiosity with its small airport and university - a mini-city without proper status. Everyone basked in beautiful sunshine and life could be very, very good there. 

But if you happened to dig a little deeper, you eventually saw things from a more frightening perspective. People went missing as people often have a tendency to do in most towns, though in Sunnydale most of them got found within in a few days. And found dead. 

If you went further you could kiss goodbye to your sanity. Richard Wilkins the First had christened his town 'Sunnydale'. Spanish settlers however, had a rather different name for the place: _Boca del Infierno – the mouth of Hell. The town had been built directly on top of a gateway. A gateway between the Earth - and in preacher's terms - hellfire, brimstone, and little demons with nasty sharp pitchforks. _

To make things worse, the Hellmouth radiated mystical energies that caused certain _things to gravitate towards Sunnydale. Witches & warlocks, incubi, succubi and of course vampires. The monsters man rationalised as myth were all too real in the town; killing, destroying life after life, family after family, night after night, after night. _

Tonight would be the same as the last and the one before that. Another Marcie Ross would disappear without a trace. No matter how many vampires he managed to stop on his hunt, more would always be taken.

_And nobody cares, Angel thought darkly. _

The docks were always deathly quiet compared to the rest of the town come night, constituting as they did its "bad part." The Fish Tank on the other hand, was a different story. Drunken brawlers sprawled out of its doors to beat the living daylights out of each other if only for the sake of recreation. 

Angel smiled wryly. He really had no business in the area if he was to be honest with himself. Vampires fed on the young and whilst some enjoyed a perfectly good scrap, they generally just wanted to drink blood rather than dirty their hands with dried droplets of it. 

Still, it paid to be cautious in his experience. 

He studied all of them carefully on his patrol. Couples crossing the road, loners… the retiring, the confident… there was no telling who was what. Technically he knew that his kind were not in any way human, they were demons who assimilated a person's identity, but they still behaved as human predators. They could be anyone. 

"Hi." 

Turning around, Angel's first thought was how remarkably attractive the girl was. With her short leather skirt, dyed blonde hair and frankly see-through white top, she was obviously a hooker. But the purity of her dark hazel eyes… She couldn't be much more than twenty… curiously for women of her profession, her age actually showed nicely. 

"Hi," He replied, deadpan. 

"Nice night, huh?" She continued invitingly. 

Angel looked up at the crescent moon. "Nice night." 

The woman smiled. "You know it's funny. You don't seem like the type…" 

"Type?" 

"To hang out at the Tank. Too handsome," She nodded directly at the bar a few yards away. 

"I… I'm just taking a walk," Angel said awkwardly. "Not really my scene." 

The woman's smile broadened, she was going to make her sales pitch any minute now. "You look like you could use a little company," she said. "I happen to make good company…." 

"Thanks," Angel shook his head. "I mean you're attractive and all but… I'm not and I'm not looking for a good time right now either." 

The woman looked him up and down. "Shame." 

Angel started to walk off. "'Night." 

Clinging to the shadows as he moved, Angel waited until he could hear the young prostitute speak again. He smiled as he watched her talk with a greasy, obese docker. She was giving him the same lines.

_One more time with feeling. _

Briefly he tried to imagine the woman's life, why she was selling herself, how she managed to keep going and what she would have to do to earn tonight's crust. Maybe tonight would be her last night. He'd seen it happen often enough: a call girl, a pissed off client. She walked a dangerous tightrope. Sooner or later she'd fall off. 

Life was like that. 

You could live in a city, you could live in poverty, you could have wealth, and you could go to church on Sunday and call yourself a saint. But at the end of the day you had to take a beating from life and you had to get on with it or else commit suicide. 

Life would always be unfair. 

Life _was a bitch._

The beer in his hands was probably warm by now. Angel didn't care. Most of the kids around him didn't have the right ID to drink the stuff. He wasn't going to look out of place. 

He had work to do. 

He sat at the bar oblivious to the din the band were making, and focused instead on those who somehow managed to dance to it. The place was like a buffet for those of his kind. If he lost track of the humans _here then there was little point in bothering to hunt. _

The Bronze lay on the border between the good and bad parts of Sunnydale. The small club seemed like the only place to be if you were a teen living on the Hellmouth. As long as you were fifteen you could get in and enjoy the frequent live music acts or just hang out with your friends. Sadly, it was also one of the easiest places to die. Loveless adolescents were always good targets if you happened to need a little human blood to tide you over. 

Of course no one realised the truth of what was happening right under their noses. The barman had just served Angelus, former scourge of Europe, a vampire once feared for his sadism and brutality. Though why should he have done? Aside from being a little pale, he looked a living, breathing human being. 

Why should the barman have known that the young man who sat at his bar was an outcast - the only vampire in history to have been cursed with his human soul? Why should he care that his customer was fighting for him and all the teenagers in the joint? 

Angel sighed. 

"I can see you," he muttered. "Don't be shy now…." 

The vampire on the dance floor stood out like a sore thumb. Though flares and spaz dance moves did not necessarily a demon make, the girl he was hitting on was too much of a give-away. Whoever the vampire's body had once belonged to he was clearly the sort of guy who should be able to have anybody he wanted, his dance partner on the other hand was just plain average, not to mention a little plump. A 'looker' she was not. Yet he was leading her out of the club… 

Placing his bottle back on the bar, he got up and started towards them. 

"Well hi," said a meek voice. 

The girl who stood in front of him seemed a little familiar, long red hair, slightly pale…pretty, in a take her home to mother sort of way. She had a male friend. He remembered saving them both in his first week in town… 

"Hi," Angel knew he was being a touch abrupt but he didn't have time for a chat. 

"Batman," the boy friend said as he approached. "Beaten up any freaks lately? 

"Yeah. Excuse me," Angel gritted his teeth as he brushed past him. 

"Ooookay" Xander murmured. "Lone ranger's not much of a talker, Will?" 

Willow blinked. "Talker… huh? Uh huh." 

Something was wrong and it wasn't just the fact that a vampire was going to feed on an innocent young girl either. Most of the time, victims were taken into a back alley. This guy seemed to be walking forever. 

Thankfully, for all its heightened senses the demon hadn't caught onto the fact that he was being stalked and wasn't simply leading him into a trap. 

Or at least Angel hoped that this was the case. 

Finally the vampire had reached his destination - Sunnydale High School. 

As the two figures crept around the back of the building, Angel noted an open window. The vampire and 'guest' climbed on through it. Angel waited about a minute or so before he did the same. If the girl was going to live he was going to have to be careful.

Walking down the corridor he felt uneasy. The vampire had a reason for coming here and he didn't know what it was…. 

The girl's scream was shrill. Swearing, Angel ran in its direction. 

"Oh Pete!" Look at them!" Marcie said with motherly pride. 

"They're very hungry," Peter said. "Sorry about the screaming."

Marcie smiled with pleasure at the newborns that she had sired. Once the initial bloodlust subsided they would bring her Cordelia and all her slutty good-for-nothing friends. And then she would hurt them. The very thought of it thrilled her to the bone. 

"Please!" the girl pleaded. 

The newborns were in frenzy, drawing blood from wherever they could. It almost made her pity the mortal child. Almost.

"That's it," Marcie encouraged. 

Very suddenly, the classroom door came crashing down. 

***

For all he had done in his life as a vampire, Angel still felt sick at the sight he beheld as he walked into the classroom. Three new vampires feeding off one human. It didn't matter now if the girl was dead or not. He would still kill them, if only to vent his anger. 

The vampire he'd followed and his female companion simply stared at him with their human faces. 

"Party's over kids," Angel said coldly. 

The female smiled. "For _you maybe," Her face morphed into that of a fanged, yellow-eyed demon as did the face of her companion. _

The dancing spaz rushed at him first, forcing him up against the wall. Angel threw his head forward, breaking the vampire's nose before sending an elbow into its stomach. 

Next came the girl, roaring with tears. Angel spun into a kick and knocked her onto her back. 

"Marcie!" the dancing spaz growled, smashing a chair into his head. The vampire punched him hard in the jaw and threw him onto a desk. 

"I'll kill you!" he continued, leaning over the interloper. "I'll kill you!" 

Angel gave no answer as he too vamped-out and kicked his opponent back with both feet. Following in quickly, he punched him in the gut and forced his head straight through a window; finally pulling his head back and staking him in the chest. 

The vampire exploded into ash. 

One of the newborns sprang at him, clearly frightened, but Angel managed to catch him in mid air and toss him into the chalkboard, knocking him unconscious. 

Marcie got back to her feet. "Pete? _You? No!" She screamed. _

Angel staked the other two newborns as they blindly continued to feed. 

"You bastard!" the Marcie continued angrily. 

Angel turned slowly. "Marcie? Marcie Ross?" He kept his voice a low growl. 

The vampire's eyes widened with confused fear at the sight of _his vampiric face. "Who are you?" She demanded. _

"Angel." 

Marcie charged. Angel grabbed one of her wildly swinging arms and broke it. The vampire howled in anguish as he followed through with his stake. 

_You can rest in peace now Marcie. Wherever you are_, Angel said silently. 

Moving forward a few paces Angel crouched down and ran the third newborn through. He stared sadly at the body of the human girl. He was meant to have saved her. 

Yet he'd failed. 

Walking over to her torn body, he closed her petrified eyes before leaving the room. He'd seen far too many people die at the hand of a vampire. 

Far too many… 

Angel felt his face morph back into its human form as the cold air caressed him. Tomorrow would bring another day of hoping that the Slayer would come…And with it another night of fighting for her cause… 

For _his cause… _

For humanity… 

Observing Angelus from afar, she grinned. Though he was blissfully unaware of it, he'd done her something of a favour in killing Peter and his young wretch of a girl. The newborns were something of a pity, still, for some inexplicable reason she failed to care due to… pride?

Angelus had clearly begun to turn on his own brethren and yet her heart persisted in feeling proud of him. He was strong, possibly stronger than he had ever been in their time together. Her Angel, her beautiful child of depravity, was now a warrior. If only she could convince him of his true role in the world, he could become one of her master's most favoured children as he had so clearly promised to be. 

If only her Angel could be freed from the human heart in which he was so cruelly incarcerated…. 

If she could have him in her arms again…perhaps she could help him. 

Help him to become the man that she'd 'turned' 

The vampire that she'd sired… 

Angelus, The One With The Angelic Face. 


	3. Chapter One

Chapter One

C_hapter O__ne _

_ _

_ _

_ _

Walking through the streets of Sunnydale, Angel ignored them. The homeless winos, the children; right through to the family men, the teenagers, and the demons that took them. He heard them all. Some screamed, bellowed slurred obscenities, while some tried to run and the cowards tried to strike a bargain – their deaths simply hastened. 

They all died. One way or another, they died. 

His anger would do little to change things except perhaps get killed. Angel kept himself to himself, eyes straight ahead so as not to see the bodies. He just needed to rest, to get back home. 

He stopped at a worn old building sandwiched between two more dilapidated twins - assuming that was actually possible. The place was hardly anything to write home about, well under a hundred apartments, a few smack heads; plenty of single mothers and a couple of immigrant families, but it suited. 

He unlocked a door and headed straight down a stairway. The majority of the apartments were upstairs, near the light of the sun. His home was the basement, albeit converted into accommodation, obviously in case some nice serial killer wanted somewhere out of the way to get on with his or her grisly business and could afford the fraudulent rent. Or at least he saw it that way. 

The apartment was nice enough once he'd cleaned it up a bit, small, though he was hardly going to be inviting guests. He'd managed to pick up some good quality reproduction sculptures and paintings cheaply to make the place a bit more comfortable on the aesthetics front. All in all it was pretty much okay from his point of view. 

He took off his jacket and shirt, draping them over a chair and walked into the bathroom. 

Bathroom. He'd come to think that the term was a little less than appropriate in his case, 'bath-closet' summed it up better. He ran the cold tap and splashed the water onto his face, and then he grabbed a towel. Quite why he always followed through with the next part of the routine, he didn't know, as he looked hard at the mirror. The demon that was inhibited by his soul continued to obscure his humanity, thus his mind contained no thoughts and his body cast no reflection. He saw nothing because he_ was nothing. He glanced away from the mirror. _

_You can walk like a man… but in the end you'll always be dead. Angel thought wearily. _

Coming out of the cramped space, Angel was aware that his privacy was being invaded. Taking time to go into the bedroom and button up another shirt, he said, "Show yourself. I don't have time for games." 

"Angel," A familiar voice purred. "You look good." 

Angel kept his back to the visitor. "Darla," he said icily. "It's been…." 

"Forever," Darla replied. 

"Ninety-six years too short of it," Angel corrected her. "What are you doing here Darla?" 

"Visiting you." 

Angel chuckled softly. "I'm flattered." 

"_Really?" Darla sounded encouraged. "What's with the change of heart?" _

"Last time I checked it was Gypsies," Angel said. "Back to my question. What are you doing here?" 

"I think you know," Darla said smugly. 

Angel said nothing. She was right; he'd guessed her reason for being in town from the moment that he'd first heard her voice. Darla was major trouble in her own right but now she was confirming his worst fears by her very presence… 

"Nest," he whispered. "I heard the story…so you're gonna help with the break-out?" 

"That's why I came to see you," Darla said. "I miss you Angel, join us! WE can rule at the Master's side, we could have everything we ever wanted in the world." 

"No…" Angel said bluntly, turning around. 

"Why are you killing your own Angel? The humans don't deserve saving," Darla said disdainfully. "We're better than them, they're ours to feed on… why are you doing this?" 

"Because I want to," Angel replied, looking the female vampire in the eye. "And because you're wrong." 

Darla looked back with concern. "Wrong? You know what its like Angel - you've tasted it. You know the feeling…" She moved closer to Angel. "You can't forget about it forever, sooner or later you'll want it again just as I do…." 

"I'm not like you…." 

"Your soul?" Darla cut him off. "It's a curse Angel, it's holding you back. Just accept what you are, be free." 

"I won't take a life!" Angel said in defiance. "I won't!" 

He knew that she could taste his indecision as the memory of mortal blood screamed from within the darkest recesses of his mind. He had come to his decision to aid Buffy Summers so easily, but Darla had a different hold over him. To Darla he owed his immortality for her choosing to sire him and to Darla he had given his passion as her lover. Once, she had been his whole world. 

Try as he might, he still couldn't forget his feelings for the vampire, however reviled he was at the thought of her crimes. Looking into her _human eyes he saw the beauty, the mystery that had led him to her that fateful night in Galway. He saw a beautiful young woman with the softest blonde hair._

He saw a woman not unlike the Slayer to whom he had pledged his loyalty. 

He could never forget what Darla had been to him. 

Never… 

And so she tempted him. Tempted him more than his heart could stand… 

"I'm not…." Angel continued. 

"You actually think that you're like them don't you?" his sire laughed cruelly. "But we both know what you are don't we Angel? And Drusilla will always know…." 

Speechless, Angel pushed Darla up against a wall and held her by the shoulders. 

Darla groaned with excitement. "You're hurting me, that's good. Go ahead - _kill me." _

Angel loosened his grip and backed off. "Go," he said. "Leave me alone." 

The older vampire's face contorted into a brief demonic scowl as she smiled. "You know where I'll be if you change your mind, _Angelus." _

Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, Angel's hand found a wooden stake. 

"Goodnight…." 

Moving sharply, he threw the stake at his door, missing Darla as she walked out. 

Angel slumped down into his armchair. The stories were true… The Master… 

Luke felt his impatience swell. He'd sent Darla to bring Peter to him more than two hours ago and still she had not returned. She was arrogant, her ego inflated by their master's appreciation of her. Luke smiled. He was still her elder. The Master would understand his chastisement of her upon his reawakening.

The Master's reawakening, what a holy day that would be. What glorious compensation for having to travel to this most sickening of places. 

The Hellmouth notwithstanding, he hated Sunnydale with a passion matched only by his hatred of Slayers. The humans were so witless, so obviously moronic. Hunting lost all sense of sport. 

But soon his master would awaken from his hibernation and would rise to the power he so truly deserved, while _he sat at his right hand. The mortal heretics would burn in the fires of The Old One's righteousness. _

Hell would be the Earth once more and the animal that was man would suffer for its pretentiousness in the final holocaust that it would ever hold in memory. 

Soon…

Though first he would have Darla's hide. 

Licking her lips in anticipation, Darla willed her human visage to be restored. She was late. Luke would be baying for her blood. A human face would push him over the edge. 

Pig headed fool that he was, The Master's lieutenant considered it to be a blasphemy should any vampire not show their true face when in the presence of other demons. However fair it might be for him, Darla knew that she could bring men to their knees with her face, regardless of it being a fabrication, and she used it. 

As she had used it to reel in Angel…

She had to compose herself quickly. She was past thinking of him before tonight… 

She would have to be again. 

_Rumania, 1899_

_ _

By the autumn of 1899 Darla had begun to grieve for her Angelus. Vampires considered themselves to be immortal but she knew that, inherently, it was scarcely more than a lie. As long as there was the sun and the Slayer, they could all die – Angelus included. 

Her precious, precious bloodchild. 

She cursed the very air. There were Gypsies near the Master's camp. Romany understood her kind – _Mulo. No, Angelus still lived through his death._He had to live. 

She searched the woods alone, cold, tired, her body trembling with hunger. She had not fed upon the blood of a living creature for weeks since his disappearance; her face was now forever in its demonic state. She tensed at every sound that whispered through the trees. She was weaker than she had ever been and yet the part of her that was still a mortal girl refused to care. At a wolf's primal call, Darla shed her demon's tears. Death echoed through the darkness and soon she would offer herself to it. 

The wolf's growl was low and threatening, it smelt her weakness, her vulnerability. She raised her head and hissed, yet the predator would not run from her. 

With a snarl, the animal jumped on her. 

Darla smiled frailly as the creature punctured her throat with its fangs. Drifting into the shadows of unconsciousness, she laughed softly. The second growl was more ferocious – the rest of the pack wanted her flesh…

*** 

Darla opened her eyes slowly. Her head ached, as did the rest of her, but somehow she felt stronger than before. Stronger than when the wolves had attacked her. 

Where was she? Why hadn't she burned in the light of day as she had so dearly wished? 

Why? 

"Oh God!" Someone mourned. "Oh God…Oh God…" 

Picking herself up Darla focused on the voice. It was low and riddled with pain, never had she heard such misery in a man – even from the many that she had slaughtered as a vampire. The agony set her heart alight with its purity. _A __mortal, she decided. _

She surveyed her surroundings. 

A cave – she grinned, baring her fangs as she did so. Her mysterious saviour had brought her to a cave, a bleak, dank, rock formation far from the murderous rays of the sun. _Some crazy old hermit…She hypothesised. _

Perhaps she'd take a little bite…after all; it _was in all likelihood a sign. The hermit had saved her from a pack of wolves, her, a vampire. Touching her face to ensure that it was human, Darla sighed gently as it came back to her – the joy of eternal life. _

Preying on the defenceless ones… 

Moving tentatively, she followed the hermit's sobbing. Her curiosity was piqued by a decrease in the number of torches on the cave floor; the closer she got to her prey, the fewer there were. 

Until finally, there were none at all. 

"What have I done?" the hermit whispered in Rumanian. "What have I done? The girl, her friends, theirs? What? Why?" 

Catching sight of his form, Darla approached her intended victim. Brushing her hair away from her brow, she started her charade. 

She said sweetly, "You can come out now. I know someone's here and I know that they're sad. Come out there's no need…" 

"To be afraid?" 

As the handsome young man stepped out from the darkness, Darla felt herself choke. 

She should have known. 

His hair was ruffled, his face soiled and his clothing torn but he remained handsome to her eyes. 

He remained her darling. He remained the boy that she had once sired in Galway, the confidant, charming rogue with whom she had infiltrated society and fed upon the extravagant blood of the privileged. He remained the gambling man who took not only your money, but also your life, as his winnings. He remained the man who'd she'd watched feed on the hearts of his family - mother, father, and sister - before doing the same to those families they had called acquaintances if not friends. 

For one fleeting, happy moment, the gypsies had not defiled him with their accursed soul. For a moment his heart was pure.

He remained her beautiful Angelus. 

"No," Angelus continued, frantic. "I've every reason to be afraid of _you Darla. Every reason in the world, you tried to kill me remember?" _

"Angelus," Darla returned with concern. "Can't you see that you're letting them win? Why are you doing this to yourself. Why are you crying my boy?" 

"_Why?" The younger vampire said fiercely. "Why am I crying? You ask me this after all you have done, after all I've done? The people, all the people we…we…we murdered? And you ask me why I'm crying?" _

"Murdered?" Darla exclaimed.

Angelus persisted in his weeping, if he truly was Angelus. They had both killed so joyfully yet now her child grieved for the pathetic mortals – how could one as remorseless as he was, hate himself for his own deeds? 

But Darla could already answer her question. 

The soul… 

She reached out at him. "Angelus." 

He grabbed her hand and forced her back. "Get away from me monster!" 

Darla felt her features re-shape. "Monster?" she said, laughing. "No more than you my love. Of course we're monsters. Its what we were meant to be…"

"I know," Angelus rasped. "I chose to drink you, but I don't have to like it and I don't have to love you either…." 

_I don't have to love you. Darla brushed away her tears, and replacing them with her widest grin, she skipped out of the sewer tunnel and into the ruined old church. _

"Did you miss me?" she said mischievously. 

Luke walked towards her, saying nothing. 

"I've got good news" she told him, a touch nervous. 

He glowered at her. "You are late. Explain." 

"Peter refused to come quietly, so did his bitch," Darla said slyly. "He won't be trouble anymore…." 

"Very well," Luke replied. "Then where have you been since their deaths?" 

"Seeing an old friend," She said. 

"Who?" Luke asked suspiciously. 

"Angelus." 

Luke looked thoughtful. "Angelus…the cursed one…." 

Darla nodded. 

She knew that Luke had never trusted the younger vampire – why should he have done? The Master had been ready to let him serve at his right hand in Luke's place - they were rivals. He _had no reason to trust Angelus. _

She also knew that she needed to be cautious in her choice of words. Angelus was a dangerous creature yet there was something about him since he answered to his new name of 'Angel' that only intensified the air of danger. She was loath to admit it, but he _was different now, almost as if he was another person. A person __she had never known. He was a hunter of vampires, a murderer of his own people… _

Upon entering town she and Luke had heard stories of a mysterious mortal who somehow managed to best vampires, protecting humans from those who had gone before them to prepare. She could never have imagined the stranger's true identity. 

Yes, she needed to be cautious, leave out the part of how "Angel" had slain Peter (she would take that credit herself) and simply relate to him their conversation… 

And her plans to bring him back to the fold…

*** 

Vampires were generally solitary creatures leading shadowy and lonely existences. While some mixed their blood with that of mortals to make more of their brood, few ever took it upon themselves to nurture their children of the night and to involve themselves with them. To be one's sire in the truest sense was a rare thing even in his hay day. He and Darla were proud of their respective offspring – although he now considered Spike and Drusilla; his own 'family' to be worthy only of his contempt, regardless of the regret he experienced about Dru – the most any other vampires cared about was the hunt. 

But to sire a human was to create an extension of one's malevolence, to remould a being of conscience into a remorseless murderer such as oneself. It was the ultimate power. 

Yet still, it was an ability that was untapped. That had been the reason for the intrigue upon meeting Darla's own sire… Heinrich Joseph Nest…

The one whom they called "The Master." The size of his court… the vampires…

_He can't be allowed to rise… he can't…_

For the first time in over two hundred and forty years, Angel worried.

Sunnydale was about to burn, and unless he prevented Darla and the hundreds of others who made up the demonic family of a most ancient and powerful vampire from freeing him…

Unless he prevented the opening of the Hellmouth itself…

The rest of the world would quickly join the little town in the fires of Apocalypse.

But he was alone, the Slayer, she could prevent it, but he was no Slayer…he hadn't the strength nor the courage to face them all.

The Slayer…

It was a long shot, to involve a human…

Still, desperate times…


	4. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

C_hapter T__wo _

Willow Rosenberg liked hanging out in the school library. The new librarian had brought with him so many unusual and rare volumes for her to read. Well, obviously not for her, but then again they might as well have been; on account of the fact that so few visited the library. She was one of a select few and even Owen didn't really count what with him only reading his Emily Dickenson collections and biographies.

Liked on a _normal day… _

"Well that was weird," Xander mused as they walked in. 

"Uh huh," She replied. 

"Yeah, I mean its not as if me coming in here isn't Twilight Zone enough for ya!" Xander joked. "Will, are you okay?" 

Willow stood in shock. "Oh sure, I've just seen a dead body of a girl with all her lower um…girl parts ripped open…ripped …surrounded with piles of ash in Ms. Millar's classroom… I'm fine…" 

"Yeah…" Xander frowned. "Me too…" 

Her friend's remark failed to register as she recalled the scene: The still bloody body of Jaclyn McCormick, one of her fellow sophomore students, torn apart. The girl was a no longer a person, she was a carcass. More chilling however, was the thought of how she died. Fang marks on her neck, throat, chest, and even clitoris, suggested an animal of some kind; the number of wounds raised that to a _pack. Dogs, it must have been dogs. _

Willow shuddered. Never again would she ask her dad for a puppy. 

She'd stood in the classroom for more than fifteen minutes waiting for the other students to arrive, staring at the body; eyeing the congealed blood on Jaclyn's lips, the dark crimson centres of her throat – she seemed so peaceful as she lay on the floor. The sight had frightened her beyond words… 

Yet… 

The body had aroused her interest, her mind, so intoxicatingly… she had even dared to touch the cold, white skin. She'd hacked into the morgue computer so often but there was something about witnessing the physicality of death…

That sickened and disturbed her more than she could have ever believed possible.

_Why did Ms. Millar have to be late? Willow thought selfishly. She had merely arrived early, eager for more education. How could she possibly blame her teacher? _

For her shock and her unrelenting terror… 

"Can I help you Ms Rosenberg?" A well-spoken voice inquired. 

Willow only just noticed the librarian as he walked down the steps to the stacks. "No thanks Mr Giles. I'm okay with my… research." 

The Englishman looked at her firstly with doubt, peering over his glasses slightly, and then with a sincere concern. "I really don't wish to pry," he said. "But is there something wrong…er…Willow isn't it?" 

"Anybody thinking, understatement?" Xander put in. 

The librarian stared at Xander as if he were some sort of alien. "I don't think I've seen you here before?" 

"I'm Willow's hapless stooge while she poses as one of your earth students to study how to take over the world." Xander remarked, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "I had the wrong ticket in the mothership sweepstakes." 

"Yes, quite," the Brit murmured. He turned his attentions back to Willow. "Are you sure? You look a little pale?" 

"It's nothing," the girl replied. 

"Yeah, right," Xander told her. "You've just seen somebody's dead body in English class. _That's nothing…" _

Mr Giles raised an eyebrow. "Dead body?" he said. 

"An actual dead body?" 

"Didn't know you could get any other kind of dead body," Xander said, doing his best to sound completely gormless. "Maybe I should start with the book learnin'…." 

The librarian threw the young man a withering glance. "Willow, you saw a dead body?" 

"Yeah," Willow's voice shook. "I saw a body…she was…dogs…they ripped her…open with fangs…tore at 'er throat…" Willow started to cry. 

Giles pushed a chair close to the girl. Xander helped her to sit. 

"There you are!" 

Bob Flutie, school principal, stood flushed in the doorway. "I've just heard," he said, addressing Willow. "You must be feeling terrible. I've arranged for a trained councillor, she's coming to see you this afternoon…" 

"I'm alright, really Mr Flutie," Willow returned in the midst of her tears. 

The principal looked at her doubtfully. "You're in shock," he told her in that exaggerated if genuine sympathy voice of his. "You need to talk to someone at times like this – a professional." 

"Perhaps," Mr Giles concurred. "Though it might be a good idea to let her rest in here for a time, just to regain her composure. After all, its as you've said, Willow has gone through a most traumatic experience." 

Principal Flutie nodded. "You're right. Thank you Mr Giles," He moved over to Willow and patted her back slightly. "You just take your time." 

As Flutie left the library, Willow noted that the librarian followed him - before returning to her sobbing. 

"Bob," Giles called. "Could I have word?" 

"Yes," the man informed him. "Come into my office." 

The two men walked on a few corridors until they reached the principal's office. 

"Sit down, please," The principal offered. 

"Thank you," Giles replied, getting comfortable on his seat. 

"Now, what can I do you for Rupert?" 

"Well to be honest, I'm wondering about what on earth has been going on this morning," Giles answered. "This dead body business."

The principal sorted through papers on his desk, looking more than uncomfortable. Clearly Willow Rosenberg wasn't the only one greatly unsettled by the incident. Whatever it was. "A girl," he said. "One of our sophomore year…Jaclyn McCormick was found dead in a classroom." 

"Ms. Millar's room," Giles recalled. "Willow said something about this girl, Jaclyn, having been ripped apart by dogs?" 

"Yes," Bob said, nervously wiping his brow. "That's the police theory – wild dogs. There was a smashed window in the room." 

"And the ash?" Giles asked. 

"Ash? Oh! _That - A student prank, possibly by…Jaclyn…there was an open window around the back of the school…." The Principal assured him sorrowfully. _

"I take it, the police agree?" Giles continued. 

"Yes," the other informed him, "Rupert?" 

Giles flashed a smile. "Its nothing, I just find the whole thing rather strange that's all. I'd best be off, see how Willow's coping. Oh by the way. Have the authorities removed the body?" 

The principal nodded. 

"Right." 

Giles left the office. 

"Well Sherlock Holmes was a Brit," the principal said to himself. 

Giles bit at a knuckle. His questioning had been far from subtle but at least he'd received the information he wanted. Or rather, the information he did _not want. _

If _only Jaclyn McCormick had been savaged by a pack of wild dogs… _

However the traces of ash made it clear to be something else, something more savage and far less human: vampires. He would need to examine the body first but the circumstantial evidence alone appeared to be enough to support such a conclusion. 

_I should have learned by now, he thought bitterly. __That you can't get away from the responsibility… _

Rupert Giles shook his head. He was and always would be a Watcher. The post at Sunnydale High had seemed like such a marvellous way to get some distance from the Council of Great Britain. But then experience should have taught him that seeming and being were two very different things. The gateway to Hell just happened to be in Southern California, more specifically, it just happened to be under Sunnydale. Fighting vampires and such like was a _duty in his life. _

A duty he would gladly do without. 

For a moment he allowed the thought of the ash piles to comfort him. The vampires had been slain for their evil. Then the realisation of the most likely culprit tempered it. _ _

_Angel. _

Since his first encounter with the vampire, he'd spent hours researching him, making phone calls to his colleagues in Europe for anything of note. The research had led him all too quickly to accounts of "Angelus", a vampire from Ireland who had spent the best part of a century murdering and torturing his way through Europe. 

And the more he'd read the less he'd begun to like him. 

One Watcher writing of Angelus in the nineteenth century had stated that, "_While most other vampires hunt to feed purely out of need or addiction to blood, Angelus hunts purely for gratification and seeks only to bring unimaginable pain and suffering upon his prey before he is finished with them. He is no animal. To my mind he is in all likelihood the most cold-blooded and merciless killer in history…"__ _

Angel had saved him from a vampire near the school campus late one night and for that he had been grateful. Until the battle was over and Angel stared back at him with the feral, angry, eyes of a vampire. Such was his fear at the time; all he could recall was his rescuers name, growled as the demon raced away into the night. 

Angel. 

Why the vampire had saved him that night had given him the impetus to study him. But then Angel had surprised him by helping him fight off a large pack of vampires attacking a group of small children in Weatherly Park, a few days later. Why, was still a mystery to him and again, Angel hadn't stopped to explain his actions but for some reason he had begun to trust him. A Watcher was beginning to trust his mortal enemy… 

Now though he'd started to wonder if both rescues were not part of one of Angelus' sick little mind games… 

Returning his thoughts to the matter at hand, Giles decided to make a late night trip to the local morgue. 

If he managed to stop at least one new vampire from rising it would be something. 

*** 

The sewers. If you happened to be the sort of person who wasn't big on mirrors, hated the thought of a tan but was partial to a few drops of O-negative, it was the only way to get around town - unless you wanted to be a human torch. Then again if your name happened to be Angel, you met all of the above requirements, but had the added bonus of a soul; even the safe way to get around town wasn't exactly hazard free. 

Since his arrival from Manhattan, he'd noticed a marked rise in the number of vampires in transit through the sewer system each month. Not only that, but more of the demons were simply resting there. Darla's arrival was more than a mere coincidence, his gut told him that much. The new arrivals were at the Hellmouth for a reason and if he guessed right, they were all here for the same one. 

The Master. 

And therein lay the danger in using the sewers to get around. He doubted that Darla would have revealed his amateur slaying but if she had, he would be a sitting duck. 

Another vampire - stout young man - brushed against him. Angel kept his head down and remained in his stride. Getting sidetracked by others wasn't going to help matters. 

"Got a light?" another vampire asked, as he walked by. 

Angel ignored the question. 

"Hey don't ignore me!" the vampire caught up and pulled at his leather jacket. 

"Get lost pal," Angel shot back. "I don't have a light."

The vampire growled, annoyed. "I deserve a little respect buddy!" He pushed Angel in the back.

Revealing his demonic visage, Angel snarled. The vampire facing him was a 'suit'; mid-fifties, the sort of guy who dyed his hair jet black to try to keep his job with the company, only now he was dead, and his hair colorant was fading. In his short time in Sunnydale, he'd seen plenty of his type rising in the cemeteries; turned to make up the numbers.

This particular one was also drunk.

"You should learn to respect those older and wiser than you buddy," the vampire ranted. "I ain't just a piece of shit, no matter what those corporate punks think! You can't just push me around either!"

Angel caught the other's fist. "Good point kid," He stared hard. The suit backed off.

If he were still alive, Angel knew that he would have breathed a sigh of relief. It was a close call. If the vampire had been closer to his own age, he wouldn't have given up so easily, and drunk or no, a fight would still have attracted the attention of others.

But Angel didn't have time to think of the consequences. He was on a mission; to gather information on the new vamps in town and their movements, the one way he knew how: by visiting The Alibi Room and beating the crap out of the barman. 

Willy hated the daytime. It was bad for business. Apart from a Skar and a Fungus demon, the bar was pretty much dead. He had to hand it to vampires – they sure knew how to drink.

Skars were pretty low in the demon pecking order. Lean, muscular, with coal black skin, opaque deep blue eyes and spikes of bone where their mouths should be, they looked fairly intimidating. But then looks weren't really anything even where the denizens of Hell were concerned in his experience, _that and they weren't really the sort to drown their sorrows too often._

As for the fungus demon – 'yeesh' probably described the whole thing well enough.

"You guys hear somethin'?" Willy asked.

The Skar grunted. Lord knows what the fungus demon was trying to say.

"There's somethin' in the cellar," The barman whispered. "Oh Jesus there's somethin' in the cellar…."

Stepping out back, Willy shivered. He really didn't know who or what was waiting for him; even the baseball bat failed to calm his nerves. He was a coward. He accepted his lack of spine….

"Willy."

Willy started to sweat. "Who's there?" he called nervously. The voice sounded human, but a human could do him enough damage, aside from being a coward, Willy could hardly claim to be a physical man. He bruised pretty easily.

"Over here."

Looking around, Willy caught movement in the shade.

_Oh boy, "Guess you're not too big on the ol' sunlight eh friend?"_

"Good call, but I wouldn't walk into the light if I were you."

Suddenly the voice became familiar - too familiar. Willy walked a little closer to his vampire visitor. "Angel!" he said, his tone welcoming. "You're early today. What? You fancied a tan for the ladies?"

No retort came.

"Heh, bad joke," Willy said apologetically. "So I take it that this ain't no social call?"

"Gee Willy, and I thought we were friends," Angel said with mock hurt.

"Oh we are, we are," Willy stuttered.

"Good. Because seeing as we're such good friends, I thought that you might be able to do me a favour," Angel replied.

"Favour? What kind are we talkin' about here?"

"Information."

It figured. Willy had met more than his fair share of bloodsuckers in his time, most kept themselves to themselves, fed on the populous and left town - never batting an eyelid about other demon activity. But Angel was a whole other ball game. The guy seemed to have a real grudge against other vamps, always coming to the bar when there were no others of his kind around – Angel hated them. However, he still took a keen interest in vampire movements. If there was anybody new, then Angel wanted to keep tabs on them. He was unusual but at least he was fair and he paid well if a tip-off rang true.

Sometimes though, Angel would ask for something that was more than his weasely life was worth and would have to resort to other tactics than payment to get what he wanted - usually violence.

"On what?" he asked.

"There's some new players in town," Angel said calmly. "Vampires - I want to _you to find out everything you can. That is if you don't already have a little something that you'd want to share?"_

Willy rubbed his chin. "Some 'o my regulars, they been talkin' about gettin' out of town. Other vampires, somethin' about 'The Master.' They say these guys are bad news."

"Tell me something I _don't know," Angel asked._

"I ain't got nothin' for ya Angel – I swear!"

"Here," the vampire tossed over some greenbacks.

"Fifty?" Willy probed. "This is heavy stuff ya know…."

"Get me all you can and there's another three hundred," Angel instructed.

"Three hundred bucks," Willy said, surprised. "What's the deal with these guys?"

"Just get me what you can," Angel said abruptly. "And Willy?"

"Uh huh."

"Don't screw me around."

"Hey, what d'ya take me for!" Willy narrowed his eyes.

Angel was gone.

He didn't quite know why but Willy knew that he was still sweating. Angel could scare the shit right out of him and when he left it subsided, but if anything his condition was getting worse. Whatever it was that was going to go down in Sunnydale, it had to be serious to get somebody like Angel scared. If there was one thing to recommend being a coward, it was probably a coward's ability to sense things to be afraid of and sense the fear in others – or at least he thought he could. One thing was for certain. He'd get Angel his info.

His coward-sense told him that the three hundred and fifty bucks might be the last that he'd ever see… 

_That's Willy taken care of. One down, one to go, Angel thought as he made his way back through the tunnels…_

If Willy was going to need time, then _he needed the __expert…  _

Rupert Giles studied his volume of Bjorn Larsen's "Vampyre – the anatomy of evil" as he packed his weapons. While it was difficult to determine when a vampire would rise, he found it a useful text when it came to calculating an estimate. With luck he would be able to kill the demon within Jaclyn McCormick before it re-animated her corpse – assuming that the girl was turned. If Willow's eyewitness account was accurate then the girl was badly mutilated thus making it highly likely that the girl was only intended to be food.

Either way, he'd find out soon enough.

He grinned. Breaking into a morgue was hardly the pastime of an American librarian. A _British librarian doing so simply beggared belief. Then again, it was hardly a __pastime; he would take to no pleasure in what he was about to do. Refocusing on the job at hand, he started checking his itinerary:_

One crossbow – check, five wooden stakes – check, twelve vials of holy water – check, one crucifix – check…

Flinching, the Watcher glanced out of his office window. _Bloody hell Giles, you'll give yourself a heart attack if you're not careful man!_

The rapping on his door was gentle and controlled.

"Coming," Giles took out his key. "Hang on a minute."

As he met the gaze of the man standing in front of him, Giles froze.

"Can I come in?"

Stepping back Giles, picked up a wooden crucifix and held it up in front of him. Icons that represented divinity to mankind had been one of the earliest weapons against vampires. The young man grimaced accordingly in response.

Grabbing his crossbow with his free hand, Giles relaxed slightly. "Please do," He said.

"Not like this," Angel said, irritated.

"Forgive me Angelus," Giles said. "Simply a precaution you understand."

"Then at least drop the cross - I'm betting you know how to use the 'bow."

"Hmm. I read that you're something of a gambling 'man'," Giles replied.

"You've done you're homework. Not bad for a Watcher without a Slayer," Angel told him.

"You knew before you came here didn't you?"

Angel nodded. "You tried fighting off a vampire, only two kinds of men do that – the stupid ones and Watchers. Accent told me all I needed to know."

"Why are you here?" Giles asked suspiciously.

"I need your help," Angel confessed. "Something big is going down here and somebody's got to stop it."

Giles laughed. "I think you overestimate Watchers."

"You really don't trust me do you?" Angel glared at the Watcher. "I saved your hide, me, a vampire! Why should I even think about that huh?"

"You're not like other vampires _Angel. You like to play games with the people you kill," Giles said coolly. "Frankly, I don't see why such a creature would warrant my trust…."_

Angel turned his back on him. Giles' first instinct told him to try his luck and let loose with a crossbow bolt but he'd seen the vampire fight hand-to-hand. If he missed, he wouldn't survive. The vampire seemed deep in thought…

"Everything you've said about me is true," he said frankly. "But if you've checked your books then you know that there's been no record of me feeding on humans this century. Truth is I don't think I've been a vampire for a long time.

"You know what happens right? A demon takes a body – it doesn't take your soul. Where that goes, I don't have a clue… About a hundred years ago I killed a gypsy girl. She was the favourite daughter of her clan – beautiful but like so many young girls, she was as dull as a post. I thought that nobody could have seen me feed off her. I was wrong. A few nights later I stuck around to watch what I thought was a funeral ceremony. Boy, was I wrong!

"See the thing about Romany is, you grow up thinking that gypsy curses are nonsense so when you find out the truth its too late for you. They called it the ritual of _restoration. Next thing I know this gypsy man is staring down at me and I'm feeling the most incredible pain…"_

_ __ _

_Rumanian Woods, 1898 _

Angelus fell to his knees as it became too much to bear. In his lifetime he had witnessed the most sickening pain within men, in most cases he had delivered it unto them, and still none of it matched what he now felt. It clawed at his heart, an invisible force, tearing him asunder.

Angelus wanted it to stop.

But his enemy was as he himself was.

Without compassion, without mercy – it would never cease.

The gypsy stared at him, eyes hollow with his fury. "It hurts yes?" he said in English. "Good. It will hurt more."

_Why do you want to hurt me man? Angelus thought to himself. "Where am I?" he pleaded._

The gypsy smiled contemptuously. "You don't remember. Everything you've done, for a hundred years, in a moment you will. The face of everyone you killed–our daughter's face-they will haunt you and you will know what true suffering is."

"Killed?" Angelus said breathlessly. "I don't…."

Mere moments ago all Angelus was able to recall were his dear friend Sandy Burns and the young woman walking down into the alley. Now, his memory was different._ _

_Very different, fuller, vivid and more terrifying than any nightmare._

Darla - his reawakening into the night, the men, the women, the little ones, Drusilla.

The gypsy girl, the daughter the man spoke of…how she loved life in her innocence…the innocence he violated so joyously.

"Liam, Angel! Please!" his mother's scream, as he…

As he killed her. As he killed them all with a smile…

Angelus screamed. "No!"

"Yes!" the gypsy man hissed with satisfaction. "Feel it Mulo…feel the pain…"

"No! Sandy? Sandy? C'mon, stop foolin' around man!" Angelus yelled maniacally. "Where are ye? Sandy!"

"He's gone," the gypsy chided. "All your friends are gone. You killed them."

Angelus crawled forward and clawed at the man's legs. What had he done to him? What was he? What kind of monster had Darla made him? He couldn't be what he now saw with his mind's eye. He was a man.

He _was a man._

"What have you done to me?" Angelus sobbed.

"We have given you a gift," the gypsy said with pride. "We have returned to you that which you sacrificed, vampire. We have brought you back your soul."

"My soul?" Angel wept, perplexed. "What did ye call me?"

The gypsy laughed callously. "Vampire. You are a demon, my boy!"

"Demon…" Angelus repeated. His mind flashed back to Darla's face. Her yellow, predatory eyes, her blood stained fangs. She _was a vampire. He remembered the myths from childhood. He had drunk of her blood. __He was a vampire. "God!" he screamed. "Why have you forsaken me?"_


	5. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

C_hapter T__hree _

My soul makes me remember what I did. I can never forget. There's more but it's a long story and I didn't come here to tell you about my life. My soul is why I fight the others. I can't let them do what I did to others or what my sire did to me. I have to fight for her…"

"Her?" Giles asked.

Angel ignored the question. "Will you help me?"

"That's quite an interesting tale," Giles said. "What's the word for it? Ah yes, bollocks!"

"Then I'm sorry for wasting your time!" Angel whispered, disgruntled. "You've obviously got better things to do tonight." He made his way out.

"What makes you think I'm doing anything?"

"You're going hunting," Angel sounded confident. "Crossbows are usually for Slayers. What's your plan?"

"I'm going to the morgue to make sure that a girl who was killed here last night doesn't…and suddenly I wonder why I'm telling you all this." Giles said flippantly.

"The girl won't rise. She was meat," Angel assured. "Marcie Ross just wanted her to feed her new born vampires."

"Marcie Ross became a vampire…" Giles mused. "If it's all the same, I'd like to check the body."

"Be my guest," Angel shot back tiredly.

Giles went back to packing his weapons. 

Taking one last glance at the Watcher, Angel stormed out of the library. He was asking the man to suspend his disbelief. To him, he was a murderous demon, soulless and evil. He'd asked for too much and yet he had hoped that saving his life would have changed the Watcher's mind. Then again, the guy was English.

Still, it wasn't as if he was going to give up on the man. He would follow him to the morgue; make sure that he didn't get into any trouble. Threatening a lone vampire was one thing but fighting one, fighting one required more than an ability to 'watch.'

A hell of a lot more… 

***

"You're a fool Darla!" Luke said forcefully.

Darla said nothing. She and Luke were once again at stalemate where Angel was concerned. Luke had come up with the same excuses that he'd come up with in London – "he is too young," "he seeks only personal gain," "he is a petulant child."

He would never admit that he was afraid of her offspring.

Luke did so love his high horse.

She had argued with the elder vampire for hours on end but no talk of Angelus' repugnant deeds would sway him despite the Master's personal opinion of him, the plan was "ridiculous."

"You cannot expect Angelus to suddenly turn on a human," Luke had said. "This _soul of his has a stronger hold on his heart than mere blood…I doubt even __you could change that fact."_

"I know Angelus," she had retorted aggressively. "He needs more than a kill…he knows where the real fun lies…."

"What greater pleasure is there?" Luke had almost sounded confused.

"The girl – Drusilla – he became completely infatuated with her," she had told him. "For Angel…there was sport in driving her mad…"

"Why?" Luke had asked.

"She was a pretty, sweet, god faring little wretch…."

Darla had then started to divulge her basic plan with Luke. She would find Angel a girl such as Drusilla had been, a girl for him to remould into whatever twisted creature he desired. It had been what Angel had truly lived for. She only had to remind him of the pleasure in it and he would be free.

Free to feed, free to kill again…

But Luke remained stubborn, not that he'd surprised her. She honestly doubted that he'd been any different five centuries ago when the Master had turned him.

Luke closed his eyes and sighed. "Angelus was a most vicious creature. Perhaps it would indeed please the Master as you say…Talk with him, give him a mortal with which to preoccupy himself."

Darla smirked with satisfaction.

"But Darla," he said. "IF you fail, there will be _no second chances. Angelus will join us… or he will die…"_

Darla nodded. It was only fair. Angel was in many ways her son. If he persisted in not coming along like a good little boy than it was only correct that he should be _punished…_

Darla shrugged as she walked back thought the tunnels. She hated the thought of letting her baby go. But it would be for the best, and if she had to, at least she would let him go with a mother's love…

Removing his lock pick from the back pocket of his jeans, Giles set to work about getting into the morgue. It had been awhile since he'd last tried his hand at breaking and entering. But, as his father had been want to say about so many things: it was like riding a bicycle.

"Come on," Giles whispered to himself. "Don't let me down now, Ripper. Don't let me down now!"

The lock clicked. He was in.

Taking the small flashlight from between his teeth, the Watcher crept carefully into the room. Gently placing his bag on the floor, he pulled out a copy of the Sunnydale High yearbook and flicked through the pages until he found Jaclyn McCormick's picture.

_Poor girl, he thought sadly. Jaclyn had been quite pretty in her own. The least she'd deserved was a quiet and painless passing. But clearly life had other plans._

Pulling open a storage draw Giles kept a hand on his mouth. As a Watcher he was no stranger to death, yet that aside, the girl's body had been brutally mutilated and a Watcher's stomach was still akin to that of any other man. He examined the tag on the body's foot, before carefully peeling back its sheets…

It wasn't Jaclyn. On to box number two…

Shifting the covers, Giles felt his heart stop. In a sense he'd been lucky to find Jaclyn with such speed, but upon gazing at her cold, dead flesh, he would have gladly settled for another disappointment. Willow's words had been simplistic, born out of shock and yet they seemed to be so poignant and true.

So frighteningly true.

He'd seen more bodies scarred by the fangs of a vampire than he cared to remember. Some of the victims he had even called 'friend'; Jaclyn McCormick was by far the most chilling. No doubt a pretentious criminal psychologist might have had a mind to consider the motive for the girl's death to be sexual. Her clitoris had been ripped open and, if _his knowledge on the subject of scarred tissue was correct, then it was one of the points from which the vampires had first drawn blood. Her breasts had been similarly damaged._

The more he examined the body the worse he felt for Jaclyn – the skin of her legs was stained - even the midst of her agonising death, her body must have experienced some pleasure in it, her nerves must have reacted to the stimulation and…

And…it didn't even warrant thought.

_You poor, poor girl. Giles felt his eyes moisten._

Gently, he placed the sheet back over the corpse. Angel had been right about her purpose. The assault on the high school student had been animalistic in its savagery. She would not be violated any further.

Thank the Lord…if there truly was one…

Then Jaclyn's face began to alter…

"Oh no…" Giles froze.

"Alright!" Angel hissed. "Now you're pissing me off!"

The other vampires just laughed at the sight of his face changing to one resembling their own demonic scowls as he got back to his feet.

_Tough guys eh?_

The gang leader - a tall, lanky weed of a man - signalled for him to come and take his best shot. With a sly smile, Angel gave it to him – right on the jaw. The vampire had given him more hassles than he could stand for one night.

He staked him as he stumbled backwards.

"Nice move pretty boy," a female said flirtatiously. "Wanna show me some more?"

"My pleasure," Angel replied. The bitch had already kicked his ass halfway across town _once. He wouldn't miss his opportunity to ruin his white shirt with her blood for anything._

The female - a flame headed woman, head to toe in tight fitting black leather with uninspired moniker of "Red" - was the real fighter of the gang. Whoever had once inhabited her lithe young body had been trained in Tae Qwan Do. And trained well.

A little _too well to believe that she was just a gang member – she could have killed her leader any time she wanted with her skills. She had to be the sire._

Angel lunged at her throwing a haymaker. She dodged and cut open his forehead with the sharp high heel of her right boot, before sending a straight kick into his midriff.

Angel corrected himself just enough as he fell to grab onto the steel mesh of the fencing and aim a sharp kick to his opponent's middle. As she stumbled back, he pushed his palm up into her chest, and then launched into a roundhouse kick. Red shot him a dangerous look as she wiped the blood from her lips.

"Not bad," she told him. "You've been taught."

"What can I say," Angel replied. "I'm more than just a pretty face," Angel smiled inwardly. Red was good but he had been around long enough to learn a few things himself

"I'm taking you down," Red threatened. "Hard."

Angel found it difficult to have a comeback as he locked eyes with his adversary because those eyes remained human in nature. The harder he stared at the vampire, the more remarkable her powers of concentration seemed to him. Outside a fight or emotionally content, a vampire could hide its identity but when things got intense, faces began to shift into inhumanity. His already had. Try as he might, he couldn't ever recall a vampire like Red.

Still, now was not the time for a trip down memory lane.

It was a time for action.

Red moved forward first, spinning into a punch. Angel quickly avoided the strike but she was already setting him up for her follow up - a rising kick to the face. Without any thought, Angel raised a hand and grabbed Red's foot. He twisted it as he would have twisted a neck.

Red grunted in anguish.

The other members of the gang shifted their stance, ready to attack.

"Back off," Red spat angrily. "If we're gonna leave, we leave alive!"

Angel moved back. "Didn't think that you were the type to turn tail?"

Red snapped her foot back into place. As she raised her head, Angel noted her demonic appearance. "This a pretty bad town. New gang don't like us very much – culty freaks. Might as well cut losses."

"You go quietly, stop feeding here tonight and I call it quits," Angel offered. "Deal?"

Red nodded slightly in agreement. "Like I said. Not bad."

"Ditto."

The gang moved on quietly.

Angel gritted his teeth as his injuries started to kick in.

The fight had been a mistake.

_You should've just walked on by pal._

Weatherly Park was another one of Sunnydale's hotspots for feeding. He'd heard the commotion as soon as he'd started to approach the place. They were attacking yet more teenagers. As big as his priorities were he couldn't just stand back and let them get slaughtered. After all, protection of the hapless human race had been his whole reason for coming to California in the first place.

Part of him didn't care though. He needed that Watcher and he needed him badly. Part of him was pissed off about losing time in getting to the morgue and keeping the Englishman out of harm's way.

Willing his face out of its unnatural scowl, Angel climbed up the fence before dropping down onto the pavement. He had some serious time to make up.

Jesse, Xander and Willow sat at their table, slowly sipping their coffees and lamenting the barrenness of their adolescent lives. As Willow put it for the thousandth time, they were on "the joy train."

"We're here for you Will," Xander said softly, observing the blank expression on his friend's face.

"Yeah," Jesse added in agreement.

Willow smiled uncomfortably. "I know. Thanks guys."

"Whoa," Xander exclaimed childishly. "I think little Xandur need go pee-pee ruum!"

"Xander man," Jesse mumbled with a subtle smile.

Getting up, Xander took another brief glance at Willow. _Man, life sucks, he concluded. Seeing Jaclyn had his friend seriously wigged. No, it was more than 'the wiggins' it was scarier then that. It was also the real reason why he decided to leave the table for a while. Ever since they were in kindergarten together, Xander Harris was always there for Willow Rosenberg. The girl was his best friend. He had to be able to help her out when she needed someone to be there._

And right now nothing worked to bring Willow out of her head – not the Snoopy Dance, squat. 

Focusing on the three humans, Darla's lips curled up into a vicious grin. All of them would be perfect candidates to be changed. Their young lives were so clearly devoid of excitement, an eternity of endless night would do them the world of good. No doubt she would sire one of the two boys eventually. But ultimately, it was the girl that had caught her eye.

She was clean, pure.

Angel would appreciate that… 

*** 

He had held his small wooden cross with all the conviction he could muster, yet still the stripling vampire within what had once been Jaclyn McCormick continued to advance and forced him to the ground with a backhand.

His books told him to expect as much.

For all the good the musty old volumes were doing him, as he felt his blood trickle down from the back of his head, and as a demon knelt down for what would be its first kill in the mortal world.

In his mind Giles cursed Angel, but the contemplation that appeared to coincide with one's impending death had absolved the vampire of any sort of betrayal. Angelus would have killed him personally if that were indeed his intention. Letting a newborn end the life of a Watcher would probably lack finesse to his corrupt mind.

Not that Rupert Giles intended to go down without a fight.

While Jaclyn was physically his superior, she was for now little better than a wild animal attacking only out of an overwhelming need for sustenance, for blood. Fear aside, he was still in control of himself. Now all he had to do was make it count.

From a Slayer's point of view, newly risen vampires could prove to be more deadly than their elders, thanks mainly to the fact that they were unaware of the existence of such women and so would be more likely to attack them with the utmost ferocity. From Giles' own, this quickly became even more apparent. Slayers were not strictly human – he was.

Wincing, he felt the cold hands of McCormick's corpse gripped firmly on his chest so as to leave him breathless. He tried to reach out and push the vampire's head away.

But that only served to enrage the creature further as it started to bang his head against the floor to subdue him.

"No," Giles let out weakly. The vampire turned his head on one side and caressed his skin excitedly. It was at that moment that he knew.

He knew that it was now far too late for him to survive…

*** 

Angel stood outside the local morgue. In his time as and before he became a vampire, he'd broken into (and out of) plenty of different places.

But this time was different.

He had to break in cleverly enough to make sure nobody on the outside noticed a thing. Then, he had to make sure that another illegal entrant didn't notice him either. He checked the lock on the main entrance – locked. _Must've got in through a window._

Briefly Angel tensed up and scented the air. Time was marching on to dawn. He had only a few hours at best. "So much for subtlety," he growled. Grabbing the door handle, he broke the lock mechanism by hand.

Silently, he moved inside and listened out for the movements of a Watcher. Humans often referred to his species of demon as 'animals' and in most respects they were right. Alive, he'd considered his hearing to be fine but almost as soon as he'd been resurrected that had started to change. He could hear a conversation from hundreds of yards away, see perfectly through shadows without light and pick up the scent of other creatures to track them. Yet he could barely hear the human he was following, the morgue was small. The man barely registered compared to…

"Damn," he whispered, frustrated. He picked up his pace. 

She was feeding on him. Giles could feel his very life slipping away. All he could do now was accept the fact.

_Why didn't they ever really accept me? I did what Dad had asked of me – I joined the Council but why didn't they ever do anything but pick at my papers and scoff at my remarks? I knew more than most. I could have trained the Slayer after Merrick, why did they send her a young upstart? I was good enough. Or was I? Am I really a Watcher? Was Dad really wrong about me? Was he right? He thought painfully._

Softly, softly, the world faded to black. A large blur raced into the room – he couldn't focus on it. Two smaller blurs latched onto the shoulders of what he knew was 'Jacklyn.' He heard the sound of two animals roaring and grunting, but it was too indistinct in his mind, like a kind of distant memory as he drifted away.

"C'mon!"

The voice in his head was harsh and anxious. Someone wanted him to hold on? Giles failed to see the point. He'd lost blood; his body was now too weak for movement. He was too close to death to pull away now. Why waste the energy against what was the inevitable?

"Come on, damn it! You go now and everybody goes with you! Hear me Watcher? If the Master…"

The voice was becoming enraged. Everybody _would have his or her time. His was simply now. Why should it be of his concern? The end was unavoidable. He understood that fact. Why on earth would someone try to interfere with it?_

"Damn you Watcher! You wanna go ahead and die, fine! But I'm not making it that easy for you! Got it?"

Giles no longer heard the voice…


	6. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

C_hapter Four _

They were fighting for their very lives. Neither of them cared. They were as one, each moving in perfect time with the other. Together they would stand and together he knew that they would win.

They always did.

Five vampires had risen from the cemetery. All lusted after her blood. He had turned his head in her direction and caught her smile. Alone she might have been afraid, but he was at her side again; stake in hand. Five against two became bad odds - for the vampires.

As he charged forward, his demon eyes glowing in the darkness, a vampire lunged for her. "Oh come on!" she told the creature. "We've only just met. Didn't your mom ever tell you that hickeys come after a date?" The vampire growled. She moved fast, hopping into the air and delivering a short kick to the demon's head. She landed to face another vampire leaping at her –not a problem- she fell onto her back, holding her stake upright…

"Angel?" she asked, breathing hard but relaxed.

"No problems here!" he shouted back as he staked his first vamp of the night. "You?"

She thrust an elbow into a vampire's nose. "Pretty good." The newborn fell back on a tombstone. She ran it through.

In what seemed like only a few minutes it was all over. They'd won, until the next fight of the patrol anyway.

He smiled as he looked at her again. She hadn't even broken a sweat. She looked as pretty as ever even in her now ripped jeans and vest.

But then Buffy would always be the most beautiful thing in his world – her wide smile, her gentle eyes. In over two centuries of life, Angel knew that he had always loved the sixteen-year-old. And he knew that he always would.

"Where next?" he asked her.

"School campus, then home," Buffy said. "That last one was quite the Mr stamina."

The Slayer got up from her tombstone and moved closer to him. "Hang on a sec," she whispered affectionately.

Then, Buffy kissed him with more passion and love than he could ever have dreamt of.

Were it not for the fact that Angel knew he was dreaming…

As he woke, Angel could sense that it was day. He couldn't sleep any longer; the dreams were becoming more and more frequent. They were also becoming more torturous for his heart.

He needed her so badly now.

He had been grateful for the fantasy though. It sustained him. If he could no longer battle on for Whistler's "Powers That Be" then he could battle on for the Slayer's love come the day that she arrived. Come the day that she would save the godforsaken town of Sunnydale.

Come the day that she would save _him._

Frowning, he got dressed, took out his battered old first edition of "Of Mice And Men" from his small bookshelf, and sat down in his armchair.

Night was still hours away. Reading it again would kill the time…

***

Xander smiled at Willow from his desk. She didn't appear to notice.

Again.

Now he was really worried for his friend, she hadn't exactly known Jaclyn. Sure, she had a right to be freaked out after seeing the girl's dead body, but it wasn't as if they'd been friends or even familiars. This was going too deep for Willow. She wasn't dealing and if she wasn't dealing then she was leaving herself open to feeling worse about things than she already did.

Something he wasn't prepared to let happen.

"Geez, somebody's got to do something about Willow man!" Jesse kept his voice to a low hush as he leaned over his desk.

"I hear ya Jesse," he replied sadly. "But you can't just shake her out of something like this. Seeing a dead body like that's a serious wiggins."

"Mr Harris? If you've something important to say then I'm sure that the class would be most interested."

Xander turned back around to face Mr Millar. "It's nothing sir…"

The bell rang for lunch.

Xander collected his textbooks together. Then he stopped – Mr Millar had called Willow over to speak with him. Willow just nodded in response to his every word. She looked even more miserable once the talk was over.

"Willow, hey Will! Wait up!" he called as the girl walked out of the classroom.

Willow held her head down as she moved along to the drinking fosset.

"Work with me Will," Xander said imploringly. "Talk? You remember how to do that, right? The talking with the English?"

Willow took a sip of water and brushed her hair from her face. "Xander…I…" she said frailly.

_Oh man, Willow… "__Hey, its okay. C'mon what you need is lunch – or at least that's what my stomach wants – and somewhere quiet. C'mon I'm now your unofficial councillor and I don't know any of those big old words that your real one does so you won't have to listen to me as much."_

Willow smiled thinly. "Okay…."

"That's my Willow," Xander said cheerfully, kissing his friend lightly on the cheek.

Willow shed a faint tear as Xander put his arm around her back. He really wanted to try to help her but he would never understand what was prolonging her pain. The fear…

The fear of what was in her mind when she first looked upon Jaclyn. The dark sense of wonder she felt when viewing the physical evidence of death itself. In an instant she had begun to understand more about life than any science texts could ever hope to teach her in a lifetime of education. She understood how fragile it all was. She understood the cold, still, beauty of death. In death there was a peace. A peace so strong, so binding that it could never be broken. It was a peace that had made her afraid of dying. A peace she wanted to avoid but also a peace that she wanted to feel.

With the paralysing horror that she had experienced in those briefest of moments had come a profound confusion. But Willow now knew one thing if nothing else. She wanted more knowledge.

Knowledge of death…

_Beep…beep…beep. The sound was the first he could make out. The sound of syllables rapidly became the second. The question was his location. Where in blazes was he?_

"…I think he's regaining consciousness," said a youngish brunette woman.

A tanned man in a white coat smiled at the brunette. "About time. Mr Giles? Mr Giles, Can you hear me?"

"Yea…yes…where?" he asked.

"You're in Mercy Hospital, Mr Giles," said the woman, she was a nurse?

"…Hospital? Th…the morgue...the vam…"

"Take it easy, Mr Giles. You've had a pretty rough time…" The man was a doctor.

"How did I get here?"

"A young man brought you in about three days ago," the nurse informed him.

Giles flexed his hand. He was on a drip. "A… young man?"

"You're lucky the guy found you," the doctor replied earnestly, "The injuries to your head were bad enough but the anaemia in your blood could have killed you if he hadn't driven you here."

Giles felt realisation dawn. "Three? Three days?"

"You've been in a mild coma, if a coma can be mild," the doctor explained jokingly. He seemed a fairly young man, early thirties at the most. "Seriously though, you were out cold. For a couple of hours I didn't think you were gonna wake up, not this year. You've gotta have some guardian angel looking after you."

"The man? What did he look…look like?" Giles groaned. He was starting to regain his feeling as well as his mental awareness.

"Black leather jacket, no shirt, black pants, black shoes – I only caught a glimpse of him but he wouldn't give his name," the nurse recalled. "And he was pretty pale, I mean he didn't really look ill but he was pale. Early-mid twenties…"

"Pretty good description," the doctor teased. "Between you and me Mr Giles I think Nurse Griffith only noticed him because he was what most women might call 'studley.' Or that's what I heard. Anyway, I've got other patients to attend to now. But I'll be back. "

"If you need anything use this beeper," the nurse held up a device in her hand and smiled warmly. "I'll be around later."

The two left his room.

Giles closed his eyes. He was well aware that he shouldn't be doing so. He should have been dead, and dead three nights ago at that. But he wasn't. He was in a hospital bed, grateful for the revelation that he continued to breathe while his thoughts centred on his saviour. On his "guardian angel" as the doctor had so unknowingly phrased it.

Angelus had saved his life.

_Why are you doing this Angel? The Watcher pondered. The vampire was becoming ever more confounding. He wanted his trust and would do everything in his power to have it because he claimed that needed his __help. His had been the voice begging for him to live. "You go now and everybody goes with you! Hear me Watcher? If the Master…" Angel had told him. "You go now and everybody goes with you…" Giles repeated to himself. "But who or what do you call your Master, Angelus…."_

It was a quandary. Rupert Giles had never much liked unanswered questions or puzzles. He wanted to know everything. And he would.

Even it meant making a pact with a devil.

A devil with an angelic face…


	7. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

C_hapter F__ive _

Money – the one vice Willy could honestly admit to. He loved money more than he loved his first wife, Martha. Unfortunately for him, the woman felt likewise and had turned out to be a much higher class of player (especially in the bedroom department!). In under a year, they'd married, separated, and divorced. And she had taken pretty much everything. So down on his luck - but not out - Willy had got in touch with a few friends and struck a precious nugget of gold.

A friend of his from LA, Doyle, had a friend who was selling his bar in Southern California. "It's a sure fire winner man!" the Mick had assured him over a beer. "He's doing very good business. It's a bloody goldmine!"

Of course being the sort of man he was, Willy didn't exactly trust Doyle (you had to be a few cards short of a deck to do that) and decided to take a trip into Sunnydale to check out the joint.

At first sight, The Alibi Room had proved Doyle right. The then current owner Louie appeared to be comfortably well off, it had a reputation for well-behaved clientele. Everything looked to be nothing short of great and with little persuasion Louie agreed to sell his bar. Sunnydale was perfect for him. In a small town people trusted people. Willy had never been one for grand scams. A few tiny ones wouldn't do anybody any harm. He would live life easy in the Californian sunshine.

Or so he'd thought, until he'd served his first 'late-night' customers about two weeks in.

Willy shook his head. His customers might be the minions of Satan but at least he made a pretty penny out of them. Today would be good on that score, three hundred dollars good.

He knocked on the door.

He was pleased with himself. The underground wasn't an easy place to extract information from; to get such valuable pieces of the stuff within such a short space of time required talent. Luck was obviously on his side the day that female Chaos demon walked into his place.

There was no way that Angel couldn't pay up.

Willy chuckled to himself. In Sunnydale there probably _was a way in hell…_

He knocked again.

Angel tossed his book onto the coffee table. Whoever was outside definitely wasn't the landlord – they hadn't shouted insinuations that he enjoyed relations with his mother.

He opened the door. "Willy," he said dully. "You're here. Why are you here?"

"You offend me Angel," the snitch answered.

Angel slouched back into his chair and stared at the barman intently. With his Watcher in a hospital bed, the worm might actually prove to be his best hope for a long while. However, Darla's buddies were scaring other demons over the hills and far away. He couldn't see any reason why any one of them might give Willy a tip off, drinks on the house or no.

"I've got what you asked for," Willy continued. "I believe that we agreed a sum 'o three hundred?"

Angel said, "Dirt first – pay later."

Willy shrugged and started to open his mouth in objection. Now he had the man worrying about the security of their deal. If the snitch was embellishing the truth he could be sure of it. "Talk Willy," he prompted coolly.

"Alright, alright! They say some ancient vamp callin' himself 'The Master'" came here…"

"In the 1930's to open the Hellmouth. But an earthquake ruined the church he was working from and he got trapped underground, between the demon dimension, and this one," Angel finished. "The vampires have come to free him."

"Hey! I tried," Willy assured the vampire. "But these guys are scarin' the pants off my customers! I mean demons call themselves 'immortal' but most of 'em just do it for the virgins ya know?"

_I __know… _

_Paris, 1754 _

The sights and pleasures of gay Parie in the spring; how Angelus loved them. How Angelus loved life now.

He had been wasted in Galway, stomping from tavern to whore house, from whorehouse to tavern - not that he hadn't had good company. He and Sandy Burns had shared many a hearty belly laugh over a tankard of ale and a "serving wench." He'd been a fine and faithful friend, a good man.

A man who'd had equally good blood running through his veins.

Truly a life of the night was the life for him. He had never dreamt of leaving Ireland and travelling across Europe. Especially with a lady such as Darla, yet now it was a reality. He felt as if his fangs were tearing into the throat of the very world, its blood was his for the feeding and that his hunger for it would never rest until he had drained it all.

They walked together into the dim alleyway.

Aye, no man was lucky enough to have a woman as fine as Darla at his side. No man alive.

He smiled sweetly at his sire. The moonlight danced playfully; illuminating her soft pale, skin until her radiance was greater than that of the moon itself. Angelus loved her. She had given him the gift of eternal love and all she had asked of him was his companionship. Tonight, she wore the same gown as on the night she had rescued him from boredom, the night he was changed.

The night he became.

Darla had made everything beneath him. The conventions of the world meant nothing to him. He could do anything he pleased. Night after night he fulfilled his every whim, he drank and killed, for Angelus need not answer to anyone ever again. His Da had often lectured him on matters of the Lord as he'd taken his belt to him, but now there was no God. He had forsaken _him the moment that he laid eyes upon his beloved sire. Angelus was above every law known to man._

Angelus was an immortal. Angelus was a god.

Sunlight - of course - by its very nature of light, hated him as it hated all children of darkness and, would ensure his most agonising end should he dare to venture out in the hours of its daily reign. But that was now elementary as far as he was concerned. Darla had taught him well. As long as he tried to avoid the 'mad' peasants who claimed to have some inkling about his true nature, then he and his lover would stay in each other's embrace until civilisation finally burned itself to the ground (such was the nature of man Darla had instructed him).

Wooden stakes, fire, holy water could kill him and crosses could burn him - but mortals hardly had the ability to use them well enough to take the matter of vampires into their own hands.

_I shall live forever, he thought confidently._

"Something on your mind my sweet," Darla whispered, breaking his train of thought.

"Its nothing," Angelus said grinning. "Just thinking about how grand life is. You've taken me from Ireland to this wonderful city. I feel so out of me place… Darla…"

Darla smiled putting a finger to his lips. "You're a bright boy Angel, you'll get used to it."

Angelus laughed out loud, Darla threw him an oddly sharp stare in return. He couldn't help himself; it was his nature. He'd had schooling in Galway but not paying attention had been the one subject at which he had excelled. To him Paris was as strange and unnatural as being a vampire, possibly more so. People spoke in a strange indescribable tongue that had made seducing the young woman of France difficult (though not impossible – he had fed). And try as hard as his sire did to school him, his Irish tongue didn't seem to like the language all that much.

Ah well, it was better to simply enjoy the nightlife - the shows, the buildings, the fine clothes, and most importantly the blood. The warm blood of a frisky Frenchie was quite a little delicacy.

"Help," a female voice screamed in French. "Monster!" He'd heard the sounds of the words often enough during their visit to understand what they meant…

They walked on in the direction of the girl's calls.

Still a good few yards out of sight, Darla held out her arm to push him back as he tried to walk further.

"Darla?" Angelus asked, dumbstruck. The older vampire failed to respond, only hissing as she stared on. Her face had changed. "Ah, getting ready for our supper…."

Darla's head turned sharply. "Shut up!" she growled in annoyance. "Watch her…."

Angelus saw nothing to be afraid of. A vampire was attacking a young woman. He held her tight up against a wall. She looked as good as his.

"No, please monsieur," she begged in French, tears streaming down her face. Angelus thought her very attractive - long auburn hair, a shapely form. Even at a distance, a most appealing kill

The vampire tightened his grip on the girl's throat. "No, please!" she shrieked. The vampire snarled as he moved in for her neck.

Before the girl grabbed his, causing it to release grip.

"Thank you for your kindness!" she shouted happily, as if she were trying to let any passers by know that she was fine. The vampire jumped at her. Again, the girl moved with the most incredible speed that Angelus had ever seen, stepping to the side and elbowing the vampire in the side of the head.

_Who in the name of the holy mother is she, thought Angelus, his mouth now wide in awe. It was impossible for a human to fight hand to hand with a vampire, impossible. In corner of his eye he could see Darla's rage burn through her, she had seen this before and she hated it, hated it with a passion he had never thought possible.___

The vampire roared again and wildly threw punches at its victim; all of which she avoided before delivering a blow of her own. The vampire was on his knees, immobilised with pain.

"No…" Angelus mouthed. A small point slipped into the girl's hand. Grabbing the vampire by his hair she plunged it into his chest…

Until that moment, Angelus had considered fear to be without foundation to him. Fear was for the living, for those who had something to hold onto: a fragile mortality that would eventually pass. It was for the prey, not for the predator. But he felt it then.

He felt it then.

Shaking slightly, he watched the girl walk away.

And watched her turn back.

She stood, watching, eyeing the darkness as if, as if she knew that he was there. When she spoke again it was in English. "You would do well to leave this alley tonight."

Neither he nor Darla responded as the girl backed off into the shadows.

"Darla?" he asked again.

When Darla faced him again her face was human and yet the venom of her scowl had not faded. "It's time you learnt an important lesson my love," she told him.

"Do you know her?"

"No," Darla replied. "No, I don't."

Angelus was confused. "Then why did you…."

"She is the Slayer," his sire interjected.

"Slayer?"

Darla gave him no answer until they had reached their lodgings. Then she divulged everything to him. She told him about how the Slayer was the sworn enemy of their kind, how one girl in all the world was infused with the power to kill them. She told him that the Slayer was their superior and that only a vampire trained well in hand to hand combat would be able to kill such a mortal.

She told him that _he would one day taste such a glory._

But back then, Angelus was simply afraid of this huntress, this Slayer. He could not foresee his future, he did not know then where or when or indeed _if he would kill a Slayer. Angelus could not have been aware of the regret such a kill would one day bring to his heart. All Angelus knew was that he should avoid these Chosen Ones of the human race._

All he knew _then was that he should survive…_

***

"Angel? You there?"

Angel blinked for a second. Willy had brought him out of the past. He got back to the present quickly enough. The snitch had told him nothing that he didn't already know about. There was no reason for payment as far as he was concerned.

"No deal Willy," he said emotionlessly.

"Aw c'mon," Willy protested. "I did the best I could! This is deep shit Angel, way out of most guys' leagues! And what did ya say? 'Get me all you can.'"

The man was right but the information was of no value or use to him, it would be money given for nothing. "I'll give you one fifty now, for what you've got and if you get me more on top then you get another two fifty. No buts Willy, you earn this money and you might earn more, you don't…"

"Received and understood," Willy said, a little sadly to Angel's ears. "But you don't screw _me around eh? I mean, ya broke the deal man, I mean I ain't so sure ya straight this time."_

Angel nodded. "I'm playing straight. I'm going for high stakes - can't afford to lose. You give me something of what I need and you get your money - if you can't, you still get it."

Willy looked down at his shoes. "I'll get what I can for ya Angel," The vampire had to admit to being impressed. He'd never heard such determination in the human's voice before. Willy understood what he was telling him, and would risk his own neck to stop him from losing the game that he was about to play. That took guts.

Angel moved over to his wall safe and produced Willy's money. "Catch," he said tossing the bound notes.

Willy smiled as he caught the greenbacks. "Thanks," he said lowering his voice. "Word of advice from a gambling man: know when to fold and walk away buddy."

Angel smiled slightly as Willy walked out. "Wish I could," he whispered, grabbing his long black coat.

Back in his days of killing, torturing, and other life destroying acts of evil, Angel never really cared much about not being able to walk during the hours of daylight (mainly because he was having too much of a good time at night). Now though, as was the case with so many things in his life, it became an annoyance. He had an injured Watcher to speak with and visiting hours were over.

He'd been coming back to Mercy Hospital over the last couple of nights to check on the Englishman's condition but so far he'd got nothing. The man was out and out cold. He just had to wait. No matter how little time he had, he had to wait.

And pray.

He entered through the main entrance, thankful for the irony of getting past. Much as he tried he couldn't save everybody and because he couldn't save everybody both of Sunnydale's hospitals were regularly inundated with fresh emergency cases thanks to vampire and other demonic assaults (not forgetting the odd regular human beatings). In the end it just meant that no one noticed or was interested in his being around. After about four corridors he reached his intended room. Looking both ways for any oncoming humans, Angel stepped inside – the door had been left wide open. _Busy night, he guessed._

The Watcher, one Rupert Giles according to his wallet, lay flat on his back. For a moment Angel thought that the man was still in his coma before his eyelids fluttered.

"How did you know that I was in here?" Angel inquired, his voice hushed.

"I've been expecting you, sooner or later," Giles answered wanly. "I suppose I should thank you now.""Didn't figure you for changing your mind."

"Neither did I," Giles' chuckle was strained. "But you still seem somewhat determined to prolong my life."

"You really don't know the half of it," Angel said gravely. "So where do we stand Mr Giles?"

"Near the end or so it would appear," Giles remarked. "Unless everything you told me was nothing more than a desperate lie for my trust."

"There's nothing I can say to make you believe me," Angel said, defeated. "You trust me or you don't – it's your choice."

"Who is 'The Master?" the Watcher asked, his tone curious.

"The Master?" Angel shook his head. "The Master is a very old and very powerful vampire Mr Giles. And he's here in Sunnydale waiting, for the end of the world."

Giles propped himself up. "Its…unfamiliar," he mumbled, his words spiked with thinly disguised concern.

"There are some old texts," Angel continued. "They make references to a Master that shall restore 'the dominion of the Old Ones' Now the vampire I know might just be insane but if he's everything he looked to be and if the stories I heard were right then he's the guy to make things happen."

"But if this vampire is as great a threat as you say he is then why hasn't the Slayer tried to stop him?" Giles put in.

Angel ran an "I wish I knew" hand down his face before speaking again. "When I was in North California during the 30's I read some newspaper reports about a series of serial killings here in Sunnydale – the victims were all drained of blood. A couple of months later I hear a story that the vampire responsible was The Master himself…"

"Oh God," Giles' eyes widened. "The Hellmouth."

Angel nodded an affirmative. "He tried to open the gateway, Watcher, but there was an earthquake and he got trapped underground and in-between dimensions while he was at it. As far as anyone knew he could never break free."

"But that isn't the case is it?" Giles speculated.

"No," Angel said bluntly. "He has followers – vampires all his descendants, they were gonna be his army on the day he took things over. Now they're here and ready for a jailbreak. Trouble is I don't know what they're planning or when they're planning to put things in motion."

"How is it that you know so much about them?" Giles asked suspiciously.

"My sire, is one of the Master's direct bloodline, she invited me to meet with him long before I had my run in with my Gypsy friends," Angel informed him. "I would have joined The Master in a heartbeat. Trust me, he's going to watch the world burn if his kids give him the chance. My sire's in town and there's more vampires coming into town every night. They're working something."

Giles appeared deep in thought. "I'll make a call to the Council tomorrow," he said. "I'll request that the Slayer come here."

"She won't come," Angel said cynically. "I need _your help now! If I can stop them now, then there won't be a Master!"_

"My resources are few and far between!" Giles argued. "I haven't been a Watcher for years, I came here to escape all of it for God's sake!"

"Mr Giles? Are you alright?" a nurse called.

"I'm fine," he returned.

Once the sound of footsteps subsided, Angel moved from behind the door. "We'll speak again," he said. "Good luck with Buffy."

With that the vampire walked out, his coat moving with his anger, as if it were caught in a fierce storm.

"Buffy?"

Willow walked out of The Bronze alone. Though she didn't want to leave Xander's company, she had to leave, it was just all becoming too much for her. The talk earlier in the day had helped but now it just seemed like the distant past rather than a morning away. Her thoughts were starting to show on her face a little, making her an open book.

A book that she didn't want her friends to read.

Xander and Jesse were trying their utmost to put her at ease again but they couldn't help her. Within her mind, Willow saw herself staring into the abyss, an endless shadow that called to her, enticed her to become one with it, to lose her very self inside it: death. All she asked for was peace: a place where the memory of Jaclyn McCormick would not hurt her to the very core of her being, a place where she would never be hurt ever again. Within her mind, Willow had found it.

Deep in thought, Willow did not know that her every move was being patiently and carefully scrutinised, and had been for nights upon end. As her head fell against her pillow at night and she took a final gaze of longing out of her bedroom window, she saw no shadow sitting in the night, watching her toss and turn until finally she slept.

But then Darla was careful.

She had observed the child for nights on end; taken a peep at her as she cried her endless stream of grief, seen her every pitiful expression and listened in to each and every conversation she'd held with herself, until she had all she needed.

Darla smiled. Given time the girl would become the key as she had hoped she would be. She would let death take the child's hand and lead her unto the peace of darkness that she so vehemently sought.

And death's name would be Angel…


	8. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

C_hapter S_ix __

The kid screamed as Angel smashed his head hard against brick wall. Angel didn't care much about his pain. There was a pregnant woman out cold on the sidewalk for which he and his mugger friends had been responsible.

And besides, he had a few issues to deal with.

Angel tightened his grip on the teen's collar. "What's the matter? It was good enough for the bitch? What makes you so special eh?"

"Let go of me, man!" the kid begged, tearfully. "I'm sorry!"

"Oh you're sorry alright," Angel growled in his ear. "You're the sorriest dirt bag I've ever seen."

The blade caught him unawares. One of the kid's buddies had more stamina than he'd given him credit for.

"Little Mother F…" Angel hollered as he fell.

If the kids had sense, they would run, _if they had sense. They stood around his prone form, gloating._

"We fixed you good big shot!" an Asian boy shouted triumphantly.

The kid he'd held against the wall, kicked him in the ribs and spat. "Asshole." Angel was careful not to flinch.

One of the boys, a black kid of about fifteen, crouched down and examined the body, touching his neck. "Guys, Mike, I think 'es dead man," he said nervously.

The gang moved away in shock.

Now, he'd finish their lesson.

"What did you call me?" Angel snarled, standing tall. His were now features angular and inhuman.

"Shit!" the kicker turned a sickly white.

"C'mon!" Angel offered. "Take me down!"

"Shit!"

The gang ran off, but the kicker remained like a statue. Angel could smell his fear as he approached. He would play him as he had played all his victims.

"Jesus, what are you?" the boy asked, his words trembling as he uttered them.

Angel hissed theatrically, revealing his fangs. He grabbed him by the throat. "Game over kid. I'm hungry and you've got blood. Guess what I am?"

"Vampire! Mom! Oh Shit! Somebody!"

Feebly, the boy tried to push his demon attacker away. Angel relinquished his 'steely' grip.

The boy ran faster than he'd probably ever need to again. Shifting his glance, Angel observed the gang's victim come around. Walking a few paces forward, he propped the woman up against a building.

Thankfully, the woman looked to be in fair condition considering that she'd just been attacked, save for a few marks on her face. But Angel knew that to be deceptive. Most of her injuries would most likely be internal. Leaning in close, he tried to hear the child growing within her. His anger rose. The muggers themselves had been little more than children, and yet they would risk killing an unborn baby for loose change?

_Humans only want to hurt each other, his sire's words had rarely seemed more correct in his mind._

The woman tried to open her eyes. "What…?"

Angel gave her no reply, as he stared at her - his mind was focused elsewhere.

Blood, sweet _mortal, blood._

At first glance, the wound looked superficial but as it opened, he felt his heart rage. His senses were engulfed by his lust. It had been a long time since he had known the blood of a human, blood so enriched by life… He could almost taste it as he moved closer…

"No!" the woman cried out as her eyes flashed open, filled with terror at the face they now beheld.

Angel roared as he tore himself away from the human. His building was not far away. He needed sanctuary. He had come so close to taking a life, to feeding again.

He had to get away from her.

Before it was too late…

As he entered the apartment, his human face was restored. He walked over to his refrigerator and grabbed a container from it. The animal inside still called him to feed, to seek out another being and drink of it.

He could ignore it no longer…

He clawed feverishly at the seal.

As the first droplet caressed his tongue, Angel felt the pain subside. Pig blood could not excite his sense of taste, nor did it satisfy his need for a kill, but it subdued his hunger. Without blood he would have died long ago, if he needed to be sustained by the impure blood of a farm animal then it was to be. His whims were no longer his life. Everything had to be done for the cause.

For the Slayer.

Nothing of the old life mattered to him anymore.

Nothing.

"Hungry tonight aren't we?"

Angel turned on a tap at the kitchen sink and washed his lips before he faced his visitor. He had to give her some credit; she hadn't lost any of her nerve. "I was wondering how long it would take you," he sniped. "New offer?"

"Not really," Darla returned. "But how does come back or die sound?"

"Nice to know Luke still loves me," he murmured with a faint grin.

Darla smirked. "Don't be an idiot Angel. You know he'll do it. You have the Master's favour. Give up. You don't want this. I know you too well."

"Present tense Darla," Angel said dimly. "Besides, your sales pitch is little too close to threatening."

"Funny, didn't figure you the losing type," Darla remarked. "You're all alone Angel, nobody cares about what'll happen to them – it's like they want us to put them out of their misery."

"Humans seem to like it," Angel said matter-of-factly. "Somebody told me that a long time ago."

"Good advice," Darla agreed. She sat down on the arm of a chair and sighed. "World domination was never your game was it? You liked being an artist, making something that would forever be a tribute to yourself. First Penn, then Drusilla …they were your little human masterpieces weren't they, Angel?"

Angel bit down hard on his lower lip. Darla was right about him: she knew exactly what buttons to push and she used that knowledge at every opportunity she got.

"I can give her to you again Angel," Darla whispered.

"So you've upgraded the package," Angel's words were submerged in sarcasm. "Used to just promise a chance to see the world, now time travel? Great new trick."

"I see you've got your sense of humour back," Darla noted.

Angel shrugged slightly. "Just because I brood doesn't mean that everything's changed but some of me has…enough of me to know that Drusilla was the worst of my crimes."

"I've found a girl," his sire mewed.

"What?"

"She's innocent and sweet, and pretty," Darla said with flippant revulsion. "You'd like her."

"Not interested."

"And she wants you to take her Angel. She wants you _turn her."_

Angel took a deep breath and growled angrily. "Damn you Darla! Give me a little time. Sun's almost up. I'll meet you here _tonight." Angel felt his face morph and smiled. "What can I say? You know the way to a demon's heart…"_

"Mother knows best," Darla replied slyly. "See you later."

"Au revoir," Angel called as the door shut.

His face returned to its human state as he stared out of his window. Darla was a creature of cunning; she would have her suspicions that his words had been part of a falsehood. His 'change' was a little too dramatic. He would have to temper his performance.From where he was standing he had little choice but to risk it, regardless of the consequences.

_Whistler? You said you'd help me! And yet **this is what I have to do to save them? Angel thought bitterly. **___

He could expect no backup from Giles and as understanding as Willy had appeared, he severely doubted that the barman would be able to provide the information that he needed to stop The Master's acolytes via his contacts. He was alone in his fight and alone meant doing whatever it took to win.

It meant sacrifice.

One human girl in return for the rest of humanity…

And yet would the means honestly justify the end?

Penn had been the first vampire that he'd truly sired but Drusilla was the one that he regretted the most. Upon her, he had visited the most diabolical tortures that he had ever devised so that he might drive her out of her mind before changing her. By the end he had succeeded in creating a demon that was not only evil but in human terms, completely and utterly insane. _He had broken her and he had made her. Him and him alone…_

But would he have the strength to repeat history and father such a demon again?

Even in the name of good…

_London, 1880 _

Angelus laughed his heart out. Ah, how he loved his companions, his family. He was blessed and no mistake.

And the whole thing was so gloriously farcical. It was honestly adorable to watch. Or rather, Drusilla was adorable. Adorable was hardly a word one could attribute to William. Uncouth as he now was.

"Now, now dear," Dru had said happily. "We don't want to spoil another lovely party now do we? No, we don't, so that's why we're going to teach you how to treat the nice ladies just like Angel does!"

Drusilla played the role of a lady whilst William attempted to seduce her.

William was failing hilariously. This was his twentieth run through.

"You're a pretty little thing," William said uncomfortably.

"_Really?" Dru replied, fluttering her eyelashes._

"Really," William continued. His smile widened. "You're very pretty."

Drusilla giggled with girlish glee.

"You are," William stoked Drusilla's neck tenderly, "Pretty, pretty, pretty!" Once again the young vampire lost control and bit into her neck.

"Oh get off, get off you horrible thing!" Dru shrieked, pushing her beloved little Bill away in a fit of laughter.

"That's it! I've _had enough of this!" William barked pulling out his scraggy blonde hair. "I can bloody well kill 'em can't I? I don't see why I should h…'ave to bore 'em half to death before I take the blood!"_

Drusilla simply glared at the born-again Cockney.

Angelus grinned. It was nearly time for him to step in, what him being William's 'sire' and all. Not that the lad would appreciate his advice and if he was to work out the truth – well, there would no telling what he would prove capable of if he remembered that _his Drusilla, his darling new paramour, was in fact his sire? However, for Drusilla's sake, he would keep up the charade. Bless her, she had not felt ready to instruct a vampire, to tutor it in the art of killing in the name of 'sire'. But then again, perhaps she had made the right decision. Drusilla, though a wonderfully adept murderess, was overly reliant on her talent for hypnosis – a talent that neither himself or William appeared to possess – thus the boy would have to learn things the old fashioned way. Starting with enticing one's victim._

And that aside, he enjoyed railing the boy to his breaking point; ignorant, undignified, fop-turned street urchin that he was (quite why Dru had decided to sire someone so pathetic was beyond him).

"What are you laughing at mate?" the younger vampire asked him sharply.

"William, Wily, my boy," Angelus sniggered slightly. "That's some temper you have. You'd do better to give it some length, not to mention give me a little more respect eh? "

The would-be Cockney's eyes narrowed into slits as they stood closely, face to face. "I drink them same as you," he said, his tone low. "I don't see why I h…_'ave to waste my time charming any old sod just because they're rich."_

"Come now, Bill," Dru called prissily. "Don't speak out of turn to Daddy."

"Don't worry love!" Willam called back light-heartedly. "We're just being _friendly."_

"Now, Wily, was that a threat you just made?" Angelus whispered coldly. "I hope that it wasn't, Wily!"

"Why? You want to make something of it _Shamrock? Eh? See if you paddy princes are man enough for an English King eh, Irish?" William whispered eagerly._

"Oh, Drusilla?" Angelus beckoned. "Be a dear and close your little eyes? For Daddy?"

"Why?" she replied, her tone childlike.

"Now _Drusilla," Angelus prompted gently._

Drusilla made two fists and squeezed them tight, struggling to keep her eyes shut.

Drusilla _was so adorable in that way._

"I knew you'd lose your bottle Romeo," William teased.

Angelus took hold of the other vampire's collar. "Oh, come on now Wily!" he said cordially. "I've gone to a lot of trouble to get us all invited to this society party tonight. Why most of your friends would give an arm and a leg to go to such a gathering, you even sold your soul! So, please, none of that nonsense like last time; servant girls all over the kitchen tonight eh?"

William proceeded to whistle.

Angelus sighed heavily. "Thank you Da. I understand now."

"Eh?"

The backhand took William down, leaving him vulnerable to the two fisted blow Angelus delivered to his back. As he writhed in pain, Angelus grabbed him by his hair and kicked him hard in the groin. "My Da always told me to respect my school masters. When I didn't he would always do his best to change my mind. Discipline Wily, all young men such as yourself need it," He kicked again. "Why without it we'd be nothing more than barbarians! Don't you agree?"

William wheezed. "I… I'll bloody kill you!" In an instant his face was demonic, his eyes drowning in rage. He leapt at Angelus with all the strength he could muster.

And brought him to ground.

Angelus' laughter was low and gutteral. "That's it Wily, kill me! Then Dru can kill you for me."

"Leave her out of this Angelus!"

"Oh its Angelus now is it? Not Irish, not paddy, but Angelus… you love her don't you, boy? But you'll never have her, she knows who her heart belongs to!"

"No!" William roared. His eyes filled with tears. Soon his face was human again.

He loosened his grip…

Angelus capitalised swiftly, punching the younger vampire off his body.

"Stop!"

Angelus turned his head to face Drusilla. His opponent followed suit.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Drusilla bawled, stamping her feet as she did so.

Angelus knew the look in his blood daughter's eyes, the seething anger. If they did not stop, she would at least try to kill them both. It had been there when he'd murdered her family and it had been there the very night he'd made her into a demon. Now it was born out of her madness – Drusilla wanted to a chance to show off her new gown at the party.

If someone were to get in the way of even that small ambition…they would never again have an opportunity to fulfil their own…

"Sorry love," William said lovingly. "But he…."

Drusilla wailed back at him.

"Dru," William was clearly upset.

"You've been 'orrible to Angel," Drusilla went on. "I don't think I like you anymore!"

"I'll make it up to you bitterheart…I'll get you a nice little boy at the party eh?"

"No," Dru hissed. "I don't want _you to come __now!"_

"But,"

Drusilla held her hands over her ears and hummed loudly.

Angelus folded his arms and grinned with self-satisfaction. "Methinks you've upset her my boy. Perhaps its best that you stay here tonight…not that you can't go to a brothel and pick up a little something if you get famished while we're gone."

William looked at Drusilla pitifully.

Drusilla shook her head violently. "You've been naughty!"

"I know pet," William spoke with a humility that Angelus thought to be curiously genuine. "I know."

"Right then," Angelus stared directly at Drusilla. "I believe that it's turned seven milady."

Drusilla smiled at her sire and took his arm as he proceeded outside.

William was now alone in Angelus' apartment. For most of his life as a mortal, he had only dreamed of living in a home such as that which he currently occupied. Now, in his new life as a vampire, it was a reality.

The apartment itself was situated in Kensington and how exquisite it was. Angelus had filled it with art treasures lost to the outside world – the finest paintings, sculptures, instruments, and writings of man – were all belonging to the vampire. He lived in luxury and now _he shared in it._

Or so Dru had told him.

He loved Dru.

But then so did her sire.

The day he'd come to live with his new benefactors, Drusilla had shown him the sketches that Angelus had made whilst he drove her mad. Then, as now, he'd thought them all to be the most beautiful artworks that he had ever seen; she looked so charming as she slept.

"Bastard," he mumbled under his breath. He hated his sire, always trying to keep her from him.

He _hated Angelus._

For a time he contemplated what he and Drusilla might be doing at the party or more to the point, who and how many they were lining up for supper. "I don't care," he told himself, imbuing his voice with as much brass as he could manage. "I can make my own fun! They're only killing…killing…. Jesus Christ! I'm me own man! I don't have to do what some fancy, ponce of a paddy git tells me to!"

Grabbing his waistcoat, William stormed out.

_I have done many things in this life, inflicted all the pains of the world upon the innocent, but if I am to choose only one then let this girl be the greatest of them all. Angelus thought proudly as he watched her._

Drusilla dallied with a young boy who looked as if he couldn't be more than fifteen, a servant from her class. But no matter – he would be merely an appetiser. Drusilla had acquired quite a taste for more privileged blood.

He surveyed the crowd with the greatest of care. Usually he would begin with a servant himself (female of course) yet tonight he needn't worry about Drusilla's beloved ignoramus. Tonight he fancied something more presentable, something with an altogether _richer flavour. And as always, he found what he wanted._

She sat in a dark corner of the main hallway of the house, sat alone. Focusing his senses he could hear her, weeping. The poor thing was upset in the midst of such a wonderful party, alone amongst such a 'fascinating' group of people – she would make him a fine kill indeed; she was rich, her fine frock of white silk and necklace of pearls told him as much. And still she suffered the pain of solitude?

Angelus grinned. Perhaps the child was something other than another tedious fop. He did hope so…

Then the sound of the call reached him. He chuckled – Drusilla was going to take the servant boy. He looked back at the weeping girl. She would keep and if she did not…few could prolong any resistance to his attentions if there were any at all.

Taking care so as not to be heard, he made his way through the rooms of the house until he could slip out of an entrance used by tradesmen.

Angelus smiled broadly. She was so perfect.

The boy was clearly a virgin and unused to the romantic attentions of young women, moaning and groaning as he did. Drusilla was making good progress, now relying on only her feminine wiles to entrap the mortal. Never had a hand touched him so, never had he been kissed by _unclosed lips, nor kissed with such feeling._

Never would he be kissed again…

"Oh you poor thing," she cooed. "Not having a mummy to make you all better."

The boy was too love struck to provide an answer.

"Never mind," Drusilla said soothingly, stroking the boy's neck. "I'll be your mummy now, forever and ever and ever."

Drusilla made a whimpering noise like a dog. And sunk her teeth into the servant's neck. The boy screamed out in pain as Drusilla's face underwent its metamorphosis and her vampire's fangs bore into the wound drawing yet more blood. After a few short sips, she tore herself away and looked joyfully at her sire.

"Beautiful," he told her.

Dru frowned. The servant's blood was running all down her chin, ruining her gorgeous new red and black evening gown. "He's lovely," she said, quickly regaining her smile. "Would you like some? Not _too much mind. I want to keep him then I can be his mummy!"_

"And a fine mother you'll make my love," Angelus assured his child as he knelt down beside her and started to feed.

Deep within the shadows, far away from Angelus, William observed the two vampires sharing the young slip of a lad and gritted his teeth – as long as he was a part of her life, Drusilla would never be his, not truly.

He felt his gut wrench as he saw contented faces; smeared with blood. She would let him taste of her own kill. She would deny him nothing.

Her ever so perfect 'Daddy' her darling 'Angel'

Paddy twat.

"Go on mate. Have your fun, be the big man, make me look like an arse, I don't bleeding care. Cause I love Dru and one day Dru is going to love me," he swore to himself. "I'm gonna 'ave you Angelus just you wait and see. Like you said, I've got to have a longer fuse, I've got to be…what's the word? Yeah, patient. And then we'll see what a hard man you really are eh, _sire_. We'll see…"

From that moment onwards, William would work to keep his promise. Even if it took him forever, he would make Drusilla love him because he loved her.

She was already his sire.

And she would be his lover.

Once Angelus left them alone…

Too easy – Angelus would return to his senses so readily after ninety-six years of reformation, of guilt and unending agony thanks to his soul?

It was simply too perfect for her to believe. Darla frowned at the thought of her own blood son deceiving her and yet…

Darla laughed out boisterously. Observing the girl would be proof enough of Angel's intentions, if he would hurt her as he had hurt Drusilla then he was truly returned to the flock. He couldn't live with himself if he violated another innocent life; the soul to which he was joined would never let him forget such an act. But if Angel could live with his actions again, if he could kill as mortals did…

Then they would be free; the Master and new his lieutenant.

Her own child of darkness…

_Her Angel…_

Darla walked on through the sewer tunnels. The mortals once christened this colony "The New World." How fitting then, that the world should be reborn in America, and ironic that it should be reborn in the image of its past.

Darla grinned.It wouldn't take long.

Not long at all. 

***

Andrew John despised his cellular phone but such was the way of the modern world he supposed, and after all he was still a young man. Being a Watcher didn't bring with it premature old age, he still had time to embrace information technology at thirty-five years.

Then again…

"Hello?"

"Put me through to her Watcher!" the voice at the other end requested impatiently.

"Who is this?"

"I told you! Its Rupert Giles!" the voice sighed. "The codeword is 'primate' Look, I must speak with Ms Summers' Watcher immediately, it's of the utmost urgency!"

_Will they ever learn how to use this bloody network? Andrew thought. "Speaking, Mr Giles."_

"Finally," Giles laughed. "Mr er?"

"John."

"Mr John," Giles continued. Andrew decided that his colleague sounded a shade unwell. "Have you heard of a small town in California named 'Sunnydale' by any chance?"

"I can't say that it sounds familiar, although to be honest with you, the US is still very much uncharted territory for me," the Watcher confessed. "Is there any special reason why I should've?"

"No," Giles replied tiredly. "I didn't think that you would have. To cut a rather long story short, I have reason to believe that the town is built on something known as Boca Del Infierno which roughly translated means that its built upon 'The mouth of Hell'." 

"Excuse me?"

"The site of the town has what could be called a Hellmouth."

Andrew scratched the back of his neck vigorously. Whoever the man was he was bordering on the deranged or at least extremely daft. "So what you are basically saying," he spoke slowly. "Is that the gateway, or rather dimensional portal to Hell, is in California?"

"Precisely," Giles answered. "I realise I'm asking you to suspend your disbelief and that you obviously consider me to be some sort of madman but if the Slayer does not come here then The Master…"

"The Master?" Andrew cut in. "Mr Giles, if you have taken any time to visit the Council Library, assuming of course that you _are a Watcher, then you'd know that any vampire known by that name is no greater threat than any other of his kind. Heinrich Joseph Nest was a cult leader who claimed to be the saviour and leader of all vampires, save that there is not one shred of evidence that he has ever done anything that would require the Slayer…"_

"Pretentious bastard," Giles mumbled as the line went dead. The Council it seemed would never change. They would always be ignorant of him. However, if the Slayer was busy dealing with some vampire Warlock intent on committing genocide by massacring the human population of Boston then he had to accept the fact, recuperate and aid Angel when he was better able to do so.

Assuming that the vampire would buy him and rest of Sunnydale enough time…


	9. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

C_hapter_ S_even _

Some might well imagine that it would be difficult to become attached to your customers if you were a barman who served hell spawn. But Willy would be the first to tell you _that isn't the case. Demons, like people, could be either good or bad. The vampire sitting down at the bar was definitely of the former and even better the guy looked as if he could drink forever._

Not to mention slip him a little info to pass onto Angel. 'Barney' already looked as if he was drunk enough to be able to pass on CIA secrets if the guy had them. Tonight, Willy decided that he'd hit the mother load that would land him his three hundred.

Three hundred bucks – sweet.

"Hiya Barney! Beer?"

"Beer," the wild-eyed vampire slurred. "No! Make that two, Willy."

"Sure thing buddy," Willy said with a broad smile. "And don't worry about it. They're on the house."

The vampire clasped the first glass feverishly. "You're…a pal Willy!"

"Y'know I'm a little surprised to see you around Barn, I mean with all this 'Master' business."

"Master…" 'Barney' groaned as he finished off the last of his first beer. "Fill 'er up pal!"

Willy shook his head. Things were going to take a while.

***

Angel closed his eyes and leaned his back on the front door of his apartment. It was too late to wrestle with his conscience any further. Tonight he would condemn a girl to something more insidious and terrible than her death. When his sire finally arrived to meet him, the game would begin.

The first of its losers would be chosen.

"Nice move Angel."

Angel's eyes opened without blinking. They saw nothing bar stairs. _Whistler?_

"I'm not really here kid," the demon's voice went on. "Hell, I'm not even Whistler, I'm just your brain trying talk some sense into that thick old skull of yours."

"Yeah," Angel hrumphed. "Hard work."

His mentor's voice was silent. He'd done too much thinking. What if Buffy comes here? What if Willy or Giles come through for me? What if Darla finds me out? There were far too many things that he'd contemplated and in the end did they all amount to anything?

To that question Angel already had his answer: 'no.'

For months on end, he had tried to stand alone because a badly dressed, junk food eating and downright maddening demon, had once told him that he could either be somebody or something far more worthless to the world. Because he had begun to think that one being alone could still make a difference to it…

"Night,"

Angel looked hard at Darla with her black jumper and kilt. Four hundred years old and she wanted to look like a catholic schoolgirl. She always had liked role-playing. "Kinky, horny school kid. Those spotty highschoolers must lose it."

"Hmm… between you and me," Darla said provocatively. "I think they just like to find out what's under the kilt."

"Takes me back," Angel returned wistfully. "So? Where is she?"

"A couple of miles away," Darla said. "Why? Excited?"

"We'll just have to see," Angel answered with a frank grin.

During their walk through town, Angel said nothing to Darla only passing the occasional smile or wild glance. This time he had to act out his part with greater subtlety. Briefly, his thoughts drifted back to the old days, when it was just he and Darla watching the world burning in their wake.Things had been so much simpler then; actions did not lead to reactions. Nothing was of consequence. He indulged himself daily, indulged himself with most macabre delights of the twilight world that had seemed exciting and fulfilling.

And then there was Darla herself: his guide, his teacher, his parent, his friend, and most preciously, his lover. She had been his everything. The world could have stopped turning and as long as Darla was still there for him, he would have considered it a mere pity. No, perhaps if he were to be truthful, Angel didn't even have a world when he had lived that time – Darla _had been his world then. After all, it had been for her that he had given up his very humanity._

Back then, even the malevolent Angelus would have given his life for her.

_Paris, 1754 _

Yvette Dechamps looked unfeelingly at the reflection in her dresser mirror. She was barely eighteen years old and for all the unwanted attention her 'beauty' received from members of the opposite sex, she couldn't help but see the eyes of the most cold-hearted old widow tearing into her heart in front of her. Worse, something inside her knew that to be the truth. How could _she of all people be a girl? God himself had decreed otherwise. In the end she was no one at all, she was not a face, nor a heart, nor a soul. She was a sword to be wielded by Englishmen who knew nothing of her and to whom that meant little more than loam._

_She was the Chosen One of her generation, how dare she wish to forsake that most hallowed of callings, for a life befitting of a mortal? How could she hope to __dare? She sighed. Her time as a 'lady of the night' had never been the happiest, but much as it had threatened her life, she would gladly exchange it for that of the Slayer. Not that she could ever be free anymore; her first night that taught her that lesson well enough._

She had been _entertaining a remarkably handsome young man who had even paid for the most exquisite meal before they conducted their business together. Quite why such an individual would require the services of a prostitute had confounded her intelligence at the time. But so accustomed as she was to dealing with middle aged pigs of men, she felt that she should take time to try and salvage some pleasure for her own senses with the man._

And she did. Jacques was the gentlest thing she had ever encountered in the world – for him there had been no need for the usual deception. Yet how wrong she had been.

How very wrong.

Once the act of lovemaking had reached its conclusion, Jacques had started to scratch at her neck, kissing it tenderly. In objection at the disturbance to her rest, she turned to face him. And she screamed. In an instant Jacques place had been taken by the most hideous yellow-eyed abomination. However, she had not been without resources. Quickly, she took hold of the blade she left hidden under her clothing and stabbed him in the back - the monster did not stop.

She was at its mercy and then… she fought back.

Her fear had become anger and that anger had become strength as she pushed the creature away from her. She punched at it and the creature was wounded? She was now stronger than _it was. But still it would not fall._

Until another came to her aid.

He barged his way through the bedroom door. Golden crucifix aloft, he ran at the creature that attacked her.

"Back! Back, demon!" he had roared boldly, his long grey hair soaked with perspiration. It was then that she had first noticed the sharp wooden carving in the man's other hand – a stake.

"_You think you can stop me?" the creature had laughed mockingly, turning his head away slightly – then it attacked again, charging straight towards her rescuer and knocking him hard into a wall._

Thinking back, Yvette could explain her next move as a product of Slayer instinct. In that moment as she retrieved the wooden stake and plunged it deep into Jacques heart, her own had come to understand what she was before her mysterious would-be saviour first uttered the word.

"Yvette?" a soft voice called in English, freeing her from her reverie.

"I'm home," she returned in foreign tongue. "Did you get it?"

Creaking followed as the Watcher made his way up the stairs to her room. Upon his entrance, the Slayer reflected on how much the old man had changed since their first meeting. While his hair was still long and grey, his beard stubble and his eyes continued to shimmer with quiet brilliance, Mackenzie was no longer the stern authoritarian who frequently served to infuriate her. He now appeared to tolerate her flaws of character, even if he was not fully accepting of them, and she in turn would try to heed his complaints and follow his requests without question (within her reason.). Whatever changes had occurred the Slayer knew one thing for certain: if the old man was intended to remain her mentor then she would do all that was in her power to ensure that things stayed that way, no matter how stuffily the Englishman behaved on occasion! He was her Watcher.

Mackenzie tucked his right hand into his jacket and produced a thin leather bound book. "If nothing else the Council are efficient," he commented. "You appear to have ran into some very interesting and _dangerous prey last night." He flicked through the pages of his book for a few seconds and handed it over to his charge._

"The last entry was made only a few months ago," Yvette noted.

"I suggest you read this diary carefully," Mackenzie said grimly. "If the two vampires that you encountered three nights ago are indeed those mentioned within then they are amongst the most vicious that you are ever likely to face."

Yvette brushed her hair away from her eyes and nodded as she read. Vampire activity had been almost non-existent tonight so she couldn't honestly consider herself tired. She took a swift glance at her mentor as he proceeded sluggishly out of her room. Usually, he had the greatest of confidence in her abilities as a Slayer and succinctly considered vampires as being par for the course, paying little attention to them in terms of study. Yet, these foreigners worried him. Once her eye caught the name 'Darla' the more she understood why.

Throughout the past one hundred and fifty years or so many Watchers had made reference to a female vampire of that name, oft describing her as "seductive" and "without conscience." If her reputation was truly deserved she would no doubt take a great many lives whilst she cared to remain in the city – men would all too quickly lose their senses for a beautiful woman, as she well knew.

However, it was the vampire's new companion that was beginning to cause her the greatest distress. "Details have begun to emerge about the deaths of this boy Angelus' mortal family," she read. "…Part of me finds it difficult to comprehend but as I read the alleged accounts I feel sick to the very pit of my stomach. Never have I heard of vampire slaughtering 'its' mortal family and never have I read of such a bloodthirsty slaughter… he tore out their very…hearts…this no animal…no animal will murder…not for sport…this is an act of evil…"

***

Angelus guzzled down his ale. He was angry, very, very angry. His face contorted into its demonic form he had spent the entire night at the same tavern in which he now sat, drowning his every sorrow in the ever-welcoming bosom of alcohol. He had many sorrows to drown. The girl had hurt her, hurt his beloved Darla and that he could not stand; to see the anguish in her eyes as she tried to will her scarred tissue into healing itself more rapidly, to hear her constant and heart breaking growls. He had to get away. Cloaking his face in shadow, Angelus continued to relish his means of escape.

He closed his eyes and snarled a command for her to leave him be. She did not leave - though he had closed his eyes to mask their unnatural glimmer he could still catch her scent, she was little better than a peasant with her greasy skin and ragged black hair. "Leave me be ye stupid woman!" he growled enraged.

The girl gave a muted reply he thought sounded bemused. "You won't leave me alone will ye?" Angelus said to himself. The girl exclaimed something as he took her by the hand and drew her closer to him. She giggled as he tenderly caressed her palm. However, she did not scream as his lips touched the sullied skin of her neck, kissing her as he wrapped his arm around her throat and his hand over her mouth. As Angelus' fangs ravaged her flesh, releasing her blood until even the lantern on his table became one with the darkness that blinded her, she could not scream ever again. Satisfied, the vampire licked his bloodied lips - the best he could manage intoxicated - and sat the girl up so that she looked as if she were only resting at his table before he made his way.

Laughing childishly, Angelus smirked as he caught the sound of a male scream from inside the tavern. "Bloody woman," he muttered elatedly. Then, all-too-quickly he remembered why he had visited the tavern in the first place and started to weep as he collapsed to his knees.

Looking up at the stars, he felt a fire burn his very heart. Darla was his sire, his only friend, his very reason for living and the mortal child had tried to snatch her away from him in the name of the worthless. Humans were nothing compared to him, nothing! Unleashing an earth-shattering roar, Angelus made his vow. He would kill the girl. "Do you hear me Slayer? I'll eat your heart! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Willow lay on her bed allowing the sounds of a hundred loveless, heartbroken, souls to stream from the speakers of her stereo and into her mind. Her spirits were low and when you were down, you did what any other self-respecting young American did – you did your best to feel worse. As of a week ago, Willow had discovered that she had quite a talent for it.

Although Xander had called for her earlier in the evening, she wanted to stay in nevertheless. Her friends had often joked about how there were too many thoughts going around in her head and maybe they were right most of the time, but the thoughts currently doing the rounds inside her were too much for her deal with.

And she had to deal before she could get on with what her mother would call 'a typical' teenage life, before she could go out and have a little fun again.

Shedding the slightest tear, her fingers danced nimbly across her computer keyboard and finished entering the chat room address. If Willow could not go out to the mountain then perhaps the mountain could pay Willow a visit…

"There she is," Darla had said.

The moment Angel had first set his eyes on the window he felt his heart sink. He might not know the girl but he remembered her all too readily.

She had been so terrified the night he encountered her in the dark alley behind The Bronze. Surrounded by three vampires, she and her male friend should have dead, were it not for his intervention. He'd staked two of them and wounded the third severely enough to ward it off and for her rescue there had been the most heartfelt look in her eyes before she turned away and ran as he dealt with her undead assailants. Hers had been one of the first lives that he had saved in his time as a vampire and suddenly it had been for nothing…

"Do you like her?"

_No, I don't. She's just a kid, a child. And if there was any other way to do this - But there isn't one, no Slayer, no second chance. If she doesn't die then too many others are going to… damn you Buffy! Damn you to Hell!_ "She's perfect," Angel replied, his fangs gleaming as he grinned. "Absolutely perfect…"

"So, when…"

"Oh, Darla," Angel frowned falsely. "You can't just rush into a relationship! You've gotta woo them; chocolates, flowers, a little stalking, a dead family member here, friend there…you've gotta find out how they feel about you, turn on the charm, show them how much in _love_ you really are."

"In love," Darla laughed.

Angel patted his heart. "I'm just a sucker for a sweet kid… Gee y'know I feel kinda hungry. You?"

"A little."

"So, where would like to go?" Angel asked. "I mean I've haven't eaten in this town since I got here but there's plenty of self-service places."

"Nothing but pigs blood…I'll let you chose."

Angel stroked his chin. "Veal! I hear the kiddies playground is serving about now, shall we?"

"After you," Darla said graciously.

Once more together, he walked with her through the night, free to feed upon the blood of innocents.

But this time, Angel would never forget…for his soul would never forgive…

***

The world surrounding him was trapped in an all consuming haze as he felt the foot press against his rib cage and though he strived to cough, the ash that filled his mouth resisted, strangling him - the second his skull hit the cheap veneer of the wood, the second that he tasted the thick crimson, he knew.

He knew that he would die. Or perhaps he should have known earlier, the moment he first caught sight of them - four demons of furrowed brow and yellow eye, one packing a wooden stake. He should have known then that he would never stand a chance…

What could he have been thinking? Maybe 'Barney' would stand a chance? Maybe a drunk vampire could still take out others that were perfectly sober?

Willy no longer cared much…as his ears sounded out their last words…

"So die all the heretics…" 


	10. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

C_hapter_ E_ight _

Dedication to a righteous cause brought with it heavy responsibilities and the hardest of realisations: although you understand the truth to which you have sworn your belief, others will shun it. Therein Luke saw the symbolism. And killing a vampire notwithstanding he took satisfaction in the mortal's suffering. Staring coldly, the rogue thought of him killing his second demon of the night only served to intensify the feeling.

She had failed… and though his master might find his heart grieving for her, she was no loss - petulant pup.

"Well?" his growl was low. "What have you to say for yourself?"

Darla wept. "Sad news brother…"

Glory! Not only would his master return, but he would finally have a chance to settle his score with Angelus. Dare to usurp _him_ would he!

"…He's coming home!"

"Then where is he?" Luke demanded, furiously working to maintain control. He couldn't let her see his frustration.

"Back at his apartment," Darla returned. "He has a little someone to take care of first."

_A little someone! Of course, it had to be! _Luke thought bitterly. Angelus had always been a slave to his whims; more concerned with torturous murder, with his human games, than serving a cause. "I fail to see his loyalty," he said.

"I disagree," Darla answered shrewdly. "He has his eye on a girl, he says his going craft his 'masterpiece' out of her make her one of us – a killer."

"And?"

"His soul – what of it? If he really is the Angel I travelled with he'll do worse than send her to hell but if he stops short then he's lying…"

"Your judgement is clouded Darla," Luke said, tone harsh. "He is yours, you care too much for him."

"No!" Darla's face changed. "I know him…"

"Enough! Very well…I must continue preparations for the ritual…leave my sight!"

"When the Master wakes…you'll have a very sore ass Luke dear…"

Luke turned his head away groaning. One day…one day…

***

Giles sat alone in his chair, blankly losing his mind to the box in front of him as it spat out all manner of nonsense from Suzanne Sommers and her bloody 'Thigh Master' to Melrose Place. Willpower alone it seemed was not enough to make a quick recovery, unfortunately for his brain.

"I vowed never to watch you," he told the television set. "You came with this apartment but I swore on my grandmother's grave that I would never watch you or else I may be struck down by lightening and yet I'm still here – watching you. Bloody vampires."

Blindly reaching out, his hands found themselves attached to this morning's edition of the Sunnydale Press (he had meant to read it earlier but there had been the most interesting feature on making the prefect gravy for chicken at 9:00…). "A man beaten to death…well, well, will wonders ever cease? A man was actually killed with some normality in this town…" he said to himself. "No, how silly of me, his body was surrounded by ash."

The phone interrupted his train of speech.

Gritting his teeth Giles pulled the telephone towards him. "Hello?"

"Watcher?"

"Angel." Giles replied bluntly.

The line went dead.

Swearing, Angel slammed his palm fiercely into the public phone, releasing a hundred quarters on top of his own.

_Gutless_.

Pulling his jacket tighter to his skin, he walked back down the stairwell to his apartment, moving out of the line of sunlight that echoed through the halls of the building. Contacting the Watcher was a bad idea, even if the man actually found himself believing that his actions were for some sort of greater good, it would only weaken his gambit. And where the Master's followers were concerned such weakness meant nothing less than a one-way ticket to dust. Still, it didn't mean the man was now useless to him, it just meant that he would have to _redefine _their already shaky relationship. He was going to be the villain of his piece but for every hero there had to be a nemesis – a hero.

Who better than a Watcher?

Unlocking the door, his mind was already setting things into motion. The girl was the key to his mission but others had already died; the young children that some distraught sibling or guardian would have doubtlessly discovered dead on blood soaked tyre swings. He needed the Watcher to be his Van Helsing and if he'd researched his past as he'd claimed then a few more well chosen sacrifices in succession would be enough to convince him of his re-emergence as a killer…

Sacrifices – such an easy word to use, and such a blatant lie.

People whose lives were snuffed out by others were never sacrificed. They were murdered. Generals in war murdered and became heralded as heroes; politicians murdered and found their way into power – all, used the word 'sacrifice'. But in the end they were killers, sending humans to hell like lambs to the slaughter.

No, he would just take the girl that Darla had 'given' him

He would still be a killer.

Just as he was before…

_Paris, 1754 _

_ _

Once she'd moved out of the back street, she could feel them in every fibre of her being. Finally, it would be over. Tonight she would finish what she had started and vanquish Darla.

And Angelus…

At the thought of the young vampire, Yvette clenched a fist until she drew her own blood. Now he would pay for what he had done to her.

To Mackenzie…

Though some three months had passed, the memory remained as vivid as ever. Her Watcher's room delicately illuminated by candlelight, every possession maintained in orderly fashion; everything as it were meant to be.

Save for him.

The second he opened his eyes; she understood what he had done.

"Your Watcher was a fine gentleman," he'd said with a delicate Irish lilt. "But then fear always adds to the flavour." The vampire stepped into the light.

Her stomach had turned violently as his tongue passed across his lips freeing the blood from them. "Don't cry lass," Angelus continued. "He's in a better place now. My, he looks as peaceful as Christ himself doesn't he now? "

Spinning around, her heart lost its will for her to live once she set her eyes upon her Watcher. Mackenzie had been a dignified man but Angelus had robbed him of it. First, he had torn the man's throat apart. Then, perhaps whilst he retained his last breath, the vampire had pushed stakes through his hands and legs to nail his blood stained form to the door.

She could not remember saying anything in reply from that moment on…only that she attacked him without the slightest thought…and that he had bested her while letting her live…

Tonight though – she would have vengeance.

Crossbow firm in hand, the Slayer kicked down the front door of the guest house

Tonight Angelus would die…

Darla did not appreciate her Angel's plan. For one so inexperienced to confront a Slayer in combat amounted to suicide. Only had she witnessed _her_ sire kill such a mortal, leading her to decide that it was better to avoid conflict with such mortals. But she was too weak to do anything to stop her blood child.

Darla was afraid for him…

With more anxiety than she would ever admit to Angelus' face, she prayed that the Old Ones would be with him as she sunk her fangs into the dark fur of one of her sewer-mates…

Amongst the darkness, Angelus imagined the look on her face the moment she walked over the threshold, a dozen dead bodies; the family that owned the guesthouse - she would be angry.

As if she were not angry enough…

She had sworn to kill him the last time they had fought, a promise that the Slayer would no doubt keep. But at least she had made such a vow; at least he had something. He'd been to enough taverns to know that if you drunk less than the man who was going to beat the hell out of you, then you won. Hatred was strong ale – and the Slayer had drunk more than her fair share of late.

"Angelus!"She screamed. "Tonight, this ends!"

Moving lethargically from the windowsill on which he lounged, the young vampire took what should have been a deep breath and readied his right hand into a fist.

_Well, Angel my boy…time to see what kind of man you really are then…_

"Aye," Angelus shouted merrily as he stumbled his way downstairs to greet his visitor. "But, you're a civilised lady, are ye sure that we can't have a go at this over a drink? One more won't do me any harm, I can assure ye!"

The Slayer laughed madly. "You're either insane or braver than I thought if you need drink for your courage"

"My dear lady, are you insinuating that I am a drunkard?" Angelus slurred with a wide smile. "Oh wait! So I am!"

"A pity…I was hoping that this would hurt you more…but it will have to do!"

With that the Slayer charged with impossible speed, stake aloft, poised for his still heart.

Angelus giggled boyishly. "Don't worry your pretty little head, there's more than enough to go around!" he said, tone darkening. The vampire hunter grunted a curse as he grabbed her stake arm, ceasing her momentum before a sharp thrust of his head knocked her back.

Wiping the blood from her nose onto the back of her hand, Yvette grinned. "I was hoping you'd be ready."

"Well," Angelus said brazenly. "I have your old man to thank for that lesson – terrible business, poor old goat didn't have a chance…and all 'cause he wasn't _ready_"

The girl did not utter another word; giving her reply with a fierce, if easily parried, kick to his head.

_That's it Slayer! Get to the end of ye tether_!

Grabbing her hair, Angelus sent a knee into his opponent's jaw and once again backed away. "I'll give ye this," he growled tamely. "Ye never know when ye should give up. Now your Watcher that's right ain't it? – Didn't even squirm."

The Slayer let lose with an enraged left jab.

Angelus moved sharply to his right. " 'Back! Away, foul demon!'"He said in a grandly appalling accent, waving his hand as if he were holding a cross. "I mean please! He's what a hundred and five? And I'm in me twenties!"

Dodging another quick kick, the vampire grabbed a chair and smashed it across the Slayer's face. Watching her fall backwards, he advanced at pace, stretching out for a weak kick.

On her back, Yvette Deschamps felt sick as her bitter teardrops ran down the back of her throat. Mackenzie had told her of the others, warned her that she would never live the longest of lives that she could imagine. "But another will come and the fight will go on…" he had said. She winced. The splinters had torn her face to shreds and continued to sink deeper and deeper into it, until the agony paralysed her. Angelus stood over her with his small predatory eyes.

She knew her fate.

"I came to kill you!" she shrieked, angry with herself.

Angelus knelt down on top of her. "That ye did," he whispered, commiserating. "And I think ye should have…but…"

"What?"

"Ye cared," Angelus snarled, sinking his fangs into the Slayer's throat.

_Holy mother!_

Power, sudden and undiluted; it ran through his dead veins, filling him with strength, such unimaginable strength. For the most tenuous of moments, Angelus thought that he had become the Slayer, being one with her unnatural power. Tearing his fangs away from his young victim, he understood what his sire had told him.

Slayers were indeed powerful, but Angelus; still young and fuelled by the arrogance of victory, had reached his own conclusion…

Their strength only made the kill sweeter…

In another year or so, he would learn his lesson…

***

Willow had remained crossed legged on her own doorstep since 6:30. It was now 7:30.

Cramp was starting to set in.

"Okay, I want to go to the Bronze," she told herself. "Mom and Dad are away, it's Saturday night. I can be party-girl even if I am loony girl right now…"

"Well, that's a funny looking straight jacket you got there…"

"Huh?"

Startled, she looked up to find herself looking at one of those tall, dark and handsome types – the sort Harmony or Cordelia had seemingly spent half their lives drooling over in magazines apart from the fact that this particular one was so obviously real and talking to _her_?

"Why are you talking…huh…Oh? Hey, don't I know you?"

"Who knows?" the man replied. "I hang out at the Bronze so maybe."

"The Bronze," Willow muttered.

"You know I'm heading there right now it want to go?" the man offered with a smile. "Hope I'm not out of line but you look as if you could use a break from moping."

"Moping - oh no - I wasn't moping I was just thinking…"

The man sat down beside her and clasped his hands together. "Believe me when I say 'I've been there' brooding really doesn't do your social world any big favours, trust me on that."

Willow shook her head with mild laughter. "Getting that now. You know its funny I usually can't a say a word around a strange guy, not that you're strange in any way, I…"

"Actually 'strange' is a pretty accurate word for me," the man replied, amused. "_So_…uh…hang on gimme a second…"

"Willow," she answered chirpily. "Willow Rosenberg…"

"So then 'Willow Rosenberg' would you do me the honour of accompanying me to The Bronze tonight?"

Turning her head, Willow locked eyes with her new would-be friend. Ever since she was a kid, Ira Rosenberg had constantly reminded his daughter never to talk and walk off with strangers. But there was something about this guy, a clear sincerity even in eyes as dark as his were…something very _familiar_…

"I accept your offer…" Willow said quietly.

"Oh _my_ name!" The man looked embarrassed. "The name's 'Angel'… pleased to meet you…"

_Me too Angel… _


	11. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

C_hapter_ N_ine _

_ _

_ _

_ _

_ _

Generally, watching Jesse try to get a dance with the one and only – thank God - Cordelia would have him pissing himself; nobody could as rapped up in herself as she was (not even her 'poodle' Harmony). The idea that his friend could still lust after her once she'd opened her mouth was just too crazy for words.

Then again, she _looked_ a hottie…

Xander grunted, while forcing down the last drop from his mug. He was low on the spirit front, sure, that was a given, but did he really have to drink black coffee just to suit his mood?

"Wow Xander, now even the losers are deserting you!"

Xander raised his head, sighing. "Harmony! What a pleasant surprise…"

The girl turned mute as he got up to face her.

"Aw, _hey_, you took your first step tonight Harm," Xander said with a devilish glint in his eyes. "You made up a _whole_ insult and said it all by yourself without Cordelia's cue. Keep up the good work and maybe one day, one day, the wizard 'ill give you a mind of your very own"

Harmony's eyes widened. She was pissed off. "Loser," she sniffed, storming off to find her friends.

"Got a point there Harmony," Xander whispered dully.

"Hi,"

"Willow!" he replied excitedly, hugging his friend. "Man, its good to see you!"

"Gee, I've missed you too Xander but oxygen becoming an issue now…"

"Oh right, sorry," Xander rolled his eyes. "I really don't want to miss you like _that_!"

_Sorry friend…_Angel thought sadly as he listened in from his table. The kid was about to lose his 'best' friend in a way that not even his nightmares could compare to, and as of tonight she was going to introduce him to the one responsible – a man named Angel.

But there was no turning back, not since this morning's paper. Willy was dead, and dead for good. 

This was the only way left.

Willow said, "Xander I'd like you to meet somebody."

Xander took one glance at him and took his friend to one side. "_He's_ the guy that brought ya here? Okay, look don't worry, first sign of trouble and I'll kick his little fonze butt."

"Huh?" Willow returned, bemused.

Xander shook his head slowly. "Oh c'mon Will! That guy's after the same thing that I'd be if I," he took another look at him and sulked slightly. "…Looked like that - not that I be chasing yours, I mean you're my best friend but you get my babble…"

Willow sighed. If he remembered correctly, the girl looked disappointed. "Uh huh,"

"Well hey it's the Lone Ranger. How's Tonto?" Xander asked as he strode over.

"Name's Angel," he replied, only a shade stern. "Xander – short for Alexander?"

"Yeah," Xander said quietly. "Now let's get things straight pretty boy, nobody hurts my Willow…"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Look, all I did was walk 'er here," Angel said with a smile. "She's a sweet kid – I've got no other plans 'cept maybe hanging out a little okay Dad? 'Sides rescuing her from a bunch of jerks on PCP isn't my idea of getting somebody in the sack…"

Xander eyed him hard.

_Alright kid, fair enough…but don't push your luck too far… _

"Oh look, here comes Willow with the coffee!" Xander exclaimed.

"Here we go, uh black, no sugar for Angel and two mochaccino…" Willow announced.

"Of course! Angel drinks _black_ coffee…" Xander chided under his breath.

He couldn't help his inward smirk.

"Thanks…" Angel replied, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Ditto," followed Xander.

Willow sat down – they drank their coffees, Xander made the odd witticism that he actually managed to find funny, and they had their conversations.

And he barely listened. He was going to kill Willow Rosenberg and given time he would probably teach her to kill Xander and whoever else might have been her friends in life.

_Time to get the show on the road, _Angel thought morbidly as he walked out the back of The Bronze. He'd sat quietly for what must have been half an hour while Xander and Willow enjoyed each other's company: now it begun, no looking back. Funny thing was that although he'd planned everything, he almost felt like he was walking out for Xander's sake. Once he started with Willow, she was never going to be the same as she was now. Maybe it wouldn't make things right but he'd give them some time to themselves before she changed…

Such was the memory of Drusilla's madness.

As he stepped out, he took time to give Willow a long, lingering glance. If she caught sight of it, she would follow.

Just as all the lambs followed…

"Oh yeah, the hat!" Willow shrieked with laughter.

"It's good to see you back Will," Xander said affectionately. "I missed you."

Willow smiled and nodded. She'd missed him too, more than she could ever really say. It felt good to laugh for a change. _Thanks Angel_…_huh? Angel?_

Willow shifted her attention to an empty seat. "Angel?"

Now she felt guilty. She and Xander had got so wrapped up in their own little world that she'd completely forgotten about the guy…then she turned her head…

He was standing at the back exit, staring straight at her…staring at her askance with those dark, brooding eyes of his…

"I'll be right back," Willow told her friend.

"Sure,"

Willow sped up as Angel moved out of sight.

He wanted her, but why?

The alleyway behind The Bronze was long, cold, and dark – that was it. You kept it simple and you could walk along all fine and dandy. When the shadows moved reaching out for you, you told yourself that they didn't. They were shadows; shadows weren't alive - simple, easy enough to believe.

Even when they took you…

Rubbing her arms for warmth, Willow thought back to the last time she walked through there. Three guys - all plug ugly – just started hassling her and Xander for no reason, growling and hissing like they were all wild animals or something. At least they did until _he _came.

He strode though the shadows, long coat moving like a cloak.

And his name was Angel.

She'd recognised him right from the word go, but it wasn't as if he'd paid much attention to her all those other nights at the Bronze as he sat at the bar, surveying the crowds before storming out back into the night. She was probably just another girl in hundreds.

Or at least that's what she'd thought.

"Angel?" she called anxiously.

Willow narrowed her eyes; something stirred against a wall until she was able to make it out. "Why'd you leave?"

"You guys just seemed to having a good time," the form replied, a touch sullen. "Sides I needed a little fresh air."

"Sorry Angel," Willow said sweetly. "What do you want to talk about?"

"You. I wanna know all I can about you; what you like, what drives you crazy."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because I like you."

Willow felt her body shaking slightly. He 'liked' her? "Gee, you really don't like to take your time do you?" she mumbled frantically. "I uh…I…"

Angel walked in front of her. "Too forward right? I just meant I like you as a friend…no wait…I really don't mean that…"

He was close to her now, pressing his body against hers, holding her hands in his. "Angel…"

"I'm scared too…"

Willow Rosenberg had been kissed many times - in her dreams. Xander was always so passionate in her imagination; he took her breath away in a heartbeat. But this was real life and Xander was too busy thinking about the 'girls of his dreams' that she downloaded for him sometimes, to look at her in _that _way.

In an instant she felt the same kiss she had always longed for…

The kiss of an Angel…

Suddenly, he pulled away from her. "I have to go," he said, stroking her cheek.

"No wait…"

He kissed her lips again softly. "I'll be here again…I'll always be here…"

Willow sighed longingly as Angel left her. He'd been so sweet, so passionate. He was everything; he was _her_ Xander.

The one she'd dreamed about.

The man she loved…

Striding through the alleyway, Angel pulled a stake from his sleeve – he needed a kill.

The seduction always easy, you made the girl feel as if she was blessed. Willow would feel her heart beat faster than she would ever have thought possible. She would be happy. Soon though, that wouldn't be enough.

Soon he would break her heart.

Forever…


	12. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

C_hapter _T_en_

_ _

_Los Angeles, 1996_

Angel was angry, _very_ angry. Whistler on the other hand, didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"He'll kill her! He'll spill her guts to Kingdom bloody Come just like the others he's met! She's only a kid, Whistler!"

Whistler gestured with his hands. "She ain't no kid, Angel; not anymore anyways. She's the Slayer it's her lot, she don't cut it? Not my problem, not yours," he said casually. "Look at yourself…you'd be nailed quicker than roadkill buddy. _You_ have your own road friend…"

Frustrated, he kicked the inner wall of the tunnel. He _had_ to help the girl. He knew Lothos, knew what he would do to her in a fight. He'd killed enough Slayers himself to know that a young Slayer was less than demon fodder if they hadn't been trained for long enough.

He couldn't just let her get herself killed. Not this one…not when he …when he cared for her?

"She doesn't even have a Watcher anymore. She's barely been out there five minutes and she's lost her only ally! I'm going to help her and I don't give a damn about what you _think_!" he growled.

Whistler frowned a little. "We've been over this."

"Yeah, I know! But if I keep my head down, she doesn't even have to see me!"

"Oh right, one look at those puppy thighs and you're just gonna walk away…_sure_ Angel," Whistler said.

Grunting, Angel stormed off. Or least he would have done if hadn't been floored. Rolling onto his back he saw his 'mentor' stand over him fists readied.

His first thought was that the demon had lost his mind. Whatever he was, 'tough' didn't exactly describe him very well. His second was how to take him down without doing him some serious damage – he was still pissed off and the feeling hadn't left him yet. Seeing red was hardly a good state when you wanted to pull your punches.

"You wanna take on your old pal Lothos, Angel? You gotta take me first kiddo," Whistler said keenly.

Angel winced slightly. Natural, a vampire's demon face might be, but that didn't mean that he couldn't feel sinew being pulled, or the bones of his skull crack while it reshaped itself.

"Oh your vamp face! Scary!" Whistler jibed.

"You want scary?" Angel hissed eagerly. "I can give you some of that!"

Smiling viciously he charged at the curious demon with all the strength he could muster.

"Smart move," Whistler remarked dodging the vampire and delivering an elbow into his upper spine. "If you're brain dead."

"Bastard!" Angel roared ferociously, letting loose with a hard right hook.

Whistler looked unsteady.

_Got you now wiseass! _Angel thought, sending a left handed punch to Whistler's gut.

Right before the demon grabbed his shoulders; and brought him down with a double knee to his ribs.

"I don't…get it," Angel wheezed, clutching his chest. "_You_ need me? The Powers That Be?"

"Wrong pal, I ain't gonna fight my way out of a brown paper bag. Reason I won was you. You're off ya game Angel, its gonna take more than a couple of mugs 'o pigs blood."

"But I feel…"

"Stronger? Yeah, important word - 'strong_er_' as in stronger than you was when I found you and _not_ strong enough to think you're the goddamn Great White Hope," Whistler shrugged. "A little training a bit more healthy drinking and you'll be good as a new. Hell, I got a couple of tricks that'll make ya better than new!"

"So…I'm useless to her?" Angel asked despairingly.

"Will you quit with the 'oh woe is me I'm so tortured, brood, brood, boo hoo' act? You're gonna help her and a lot of other people if that's what you say you want to do!"

"I…"

"Wanna kill some of ya buddies? Don't worry, you're gonna do your share!" Whistler smirked confidently. "You're gonna do your share…"

"Darla! Nice of you to drop by!" Angel said brightly, tossing his coat onto his coffee table.

"So what do you think of her now that you've had a chance to get to know each other?"

"Sweet kid," he replied with an evil grin.

Darla laughed.

Angel felt sick. His every impulse told him to take a stake to hand and finish his sire. If he killed enough of The Master's followers then perhaps he could stop his awakening.

Or perhaps he would commit suicide.

Either way it couldn't prevent him from feeling rage. Whistler had given him a mission: protect mankind, hunt and destroy demon kind, find redemption. It was that simple. She wouldn't know it, but he would be the Slayer's ally in the night.

He would help her; help Buffy.

Yet here he was, talking to his sire with all the civility of a murderer like nothing had ever changed. Mentally, he bit his lip and chose to flash another smile. Given time not even the ultimate sin would be beneath Angelus; he _would_ see her perish at his hand.

_For Willow_.

"Luke still doesn't trust you, you know," Darla said.

"Gee, how will I ever live _that_ one down," Angel spat. _And you really mean that don't you, Angelus. _"Oh come on Darla, I've got better things to put my mind to than pleasing a stubborn idiot like him."

"How's it going?" Darla asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I kissed her," Angel said arrogantly. "Kid's probably hearing the tweetie birds singing already…she's in love…"

"You always were a charmer," Darla purred suggestively.

Angel snorted in amusement. "Sorry Darla but I'm spoken for right now! I have to give Willow my all now. Poor girl looks like she could use _a lot_ of love…besides I need a little shut eye."

Darla looked surprised.

"Catch you later maybe?"

"Yeah," the older vampire replied mutedly. "See ya!"

The door closed.

Angel swore.

He'd hooked his fish. Willow would pine for him until their next meeting. Now, all he had to do was decide when that meeting was to take place.

But that, was a question that would have to wait until the night…

***

The gentle sunlight filled the corridors, the birds twittered their happy songs and all was right with the world as Willow made her belated way to her first class of the day. But though the bell rang to signal its prompt conclusion she could find the will neither to worry about it, nor to care.

She was the happiest girl on the planet and nothing would ever spoil her mood again.

_Darn! I'll just have to borrow Owen's notes…_

Walking on in the direction of the soda machine, she actually found herself humming. She hadn't hummed since before she got bullied because of it in the third grade, yet why should she worry about what some shanky ho's thought about her habits? All her life she'd been a plain Jane who hadn't managed to attract anything with a penis or at least not in a romantic sense (ridicule, sure enough but not anything else).

_Which okay, is sorta my fault. _

She hadn't exactly given boys much to think about – she wasn't a Cordelia of this world – she found it difficult to make syllables, let alone whole words if a guy came anywhere near her, when other girls dressed to kill, she chose to dress like the sort of nice Jewish girl that grandma was always rambling on about at family gatherings and to top it all off she had the kiss of death itself: she was smart.

But things had changed.

Angel _wanted _her. The most handsome man she had ever seen – outside the movies – had wanted to touch her intimately. The memory of their kiss filled her head until she could remember nothing else save that precious moment…

"Willow! _My_ aren't we happy today?"

Cordelia.

"Did you get a little extra math homework to do last night?" the girl continued. "And the red cardigan…"

"Cordelia? Could you help me?" Willow asked softly.

Cordelia and her two 'gooseteppers' smirked in unison.

"Great," Willow replied. "Please shut up and get out of my face now!"

"What?" Cordelia gasped viciously.

Willow chuckled to herself as she walked past.

Jesse was fed up. He had a free period; he was hanging out with his best bud in town. Great, if said friend hadn't spent the past lesson passing quick notes about some guy named 'Angel'.

And was still managing to talk about nothing else.

"I don't get it Jesse man," Xander said gruffly. "The guy's out for something and in this case I am _not_ thinking math coaching!"

_For the love of God man shut the f…_"Hey Willow! C'mon hang…please?"

"Good morning Ms Rosenberg," Xander added jokingly. "You're looking awfully chipper for somebody who skipped class?" He paused. "Did I say that?"

Willow sat down on the couch.

"Yeah Will, what's the deal?"

"Oh nothing…I just slept late that's all…" Willow answered with a yawn.

"_Right_ sure I bet you were. Got all smootchie with Angel huh?" Jesse put in with a lop sided smile.

Xander went on the defensive. "What? No! A good Jewish girl like our Willster?!"

"_Jesse,_" Willow giggled.

Xander thought he was ready to explode. Willow had smootchies with Angel and it wasn't just some dirty little idea in his buddy's almost pornographic head either.

Willow might have been able to hack into the city council's computer network and work out math problems without getting a sick headache. But a liar she wasn't, not a good one.

Her face always gave her away; try as he might not to think about it, her twitching gave her away today. The guy was after her groin and Willow was helping him on the road to get there.

_The bastard!_

"Will," he said, "Can we talk? Uh, in private?"

"Sure, Xander."

Xander got up and ushered Willow into an empty classroom.

He shut the door.

"The guy's no good Will," he said brusquely.

Willow smiled one of her sugary smiles. "Xander, what are you talking about?"

"Angel: he's no good, he'll mess you around. He's after one thing Will."

"What?"

Xander ruffled his hair and breathed in deep. He couldn't lose his cool with Willow. Hell, he was doing this because he cared for her. She was his best friend, he loved her, wanted to look out for her. He didn't want to fall out.

"When Jesse joked about you guys…you flinched just like the time you stole my GI Joe, sent me ransom letters and told me it wasn't you…"

"Xander, we were both five years old…" Willow managed a strange sighing noise like laughter. "Okay…but hey! How come you never asked for it back?"

"I stole your Barbie and had ole Joe torture her secret plans right out of her until she sang like…ahem…it was only fair. Hey! No changing the subject Will!" Xander frowned forlornly. "Look Will, I just don't wanna see you get hurt…"

Willow kept silent.

_Thanks Will, give me the I don't wanna talk routine_.

"It's none of your business Xander," Willow answered firmly. "I'd thought you'd be happy for me. Guys don't exactly walk up to me all the time in case you haven't noticed."

Xander thought about hitting back but Willow cut him off sharply.

"Angel likes me – for the first time, a guy really _likes me_…"

He felt for his friend, he really did. She'd been through a tough time of late and spending time thinking about a guy was generally a better thing to do with your time than thinking about a mutilated dead body, yet there was something about Angel that gnawed at him every time he saw the guy, a look in his eye.

A spark that, well, wasn't.

Angel had a story to tell and if he was more than just paranoid for Willow's sake, Xander knew that it wasn't exactly a fairy tale and that Angel was no prince charming.

He sighed, Willow was going to get hurt by Angel if things ran their course, though perhaps it was better to stand back and let them. When it was over, maybe it would be better to be a friend, a shoulder to cry on than say, "I told you so"

"I hear ya," he said sincerely. "Just hope it works out for you. I'm keeping my fingers crossed okay?"

Willow embraced him. "Thank you," she said brightly.

The bell rang for class.

"C'mon, we'd better hurry!" Willow prompted.

"Aggh! Headache! Ow..owie owie owieee!" Xander held a hand to his forehead. "Sorry Will, you'll have to suffer math alone today…"

"Xander Harris," Willow said knowingly. "See ya…"

As his friend walked out, Xander leaned on a desk, there would probably be a class coming in at any moment. He'd head off to the library. The librarian would be back today and as much as it pained him to say it, the guy was okay for a stuffy English person. Besides which he rarely saw any souls anyway. He'd be glad for company.

Well, that would be his excuse to self.

"Bloody woman!" Giles muttered to himself. "Barely more than a week and she buggers my entire filing system…"

"Y'know, if you actually used that computer over there you might actually have some hair on your head by the end of the day."

"Oh hello,"

As was usually par for the course with his faculty colleagues, Giles failed to recall the surname of the person standing in front of him. To be fair though, this one was a new arrival on what Bob constantly referred to as 'The Team'; a youngish woman, late twenties, early thirties, dark hair, shapely, certainly attractive, accent aside – from Detroit he believed.But didn't she take Computer Science or whatever Americans bothered to call it? Why would she need to see him?

"Ms…"

"Calendar." The woman added.

"Ah yes Ms Calendar," Giles continued. "How might I be of assistance?"

"I was kinda hoping that you could help me find some books?"

"Yes, of course," Giles replied perhaps a little more snobbishly than he intended. "But I understood that you computer types thought that books were now obsolete?"

"Some _do_," Ms Calendar admitted. "Still, they have their uses right now."

"What do you need?"

"Uh biographies of Jules Verne, H.G. Wells and a copy of 'War of the worlds' if you've got one thanks."

There she was: a computer specialist, emphasising to students how wondrous modern technology is compared to the written word and such like, checking out a novel warning man about the dangers of advanced machines, the threat that technology posed to society.

The irony of the last request wasn't lost on Giles in the slightest.

"A fine novel," Giles remarked.

"Really? Haven't read it," the teacher said plainly. "Listened to the album once though: in the dark…"

Giles found himself smiling. Librarian he might be, but he still had his LP collection; he'd done the same. Not that he was going to relate the story to her though. Tales of a candle lit room, Richard Burton, synthesized war cries and Marijuana didn't really sound all that appropriate at the current time.

"So what is the aim of the project?" he asked, scanning the stacks.

"I'm going to spend a few lessons talking about differing views on technology and ideas of what technology people like Verne expected by now…should keep 'em busy on the net for awhile."

"Interesting," Giles mumbled, carrying texts. "To be honest I've never gotten on with the damned machines – computers I mean. Here you go, I trust that these will be of use to you? I've included some books on Arthur C. Clarke as well…"

"Thank you Mr Giles," Ms Calendar said gratefully. "I'll have somebody drop these back to you sometime this afternoon."

"This afternoon?"

"I'll scan what I need."

_Of course! How stupid of me…people and their gadgets… _

"Bye"

"Uh yes, goodbye Ms Calendar," Giles replied.

Yawning, the Watcher went back to his office to restore his apparently "inefficient" records.

Computers. Why was everyone seemingly making such a ridiculous fuss about little grey boxes of circuit boards that did nothing save for display endless incomprehensible error messages on monitors? Information or "data" – quote marks for contempt - should be tangible, with form, not just characters that could get wiped away for all time just because of incorrect key presses.

It was simply beyond him.

"Why did I just do that? The guy's a creep and you know it!" said a gruff voice.

_Do what? Walk in here? I'm with you on that one_. Giles thought, rubbing his eyes. The paperwork of the accursed temp, Mrs Waltzberg, was becoming ever more depressing and nightmarish to behold.

"Sure he saved your ass from those freaks that one time but how can somebody who uses that much hair gel be okay? All right Xand you're getting _way_ off track now buddy. You don't like Angel and that's all you've got…"

_Angel? _The name shot through Giles' head like a bullet. He put down his Parker. There was a chance that whoever was outside was talking about someone who wasn't an allegedly cursed demon - but this was Sunnydale; anything normal hardly seemed all that likely.

"Geez Will I'd feel safer if ya were going out with Jesse – Oh God, I really did mean that! Man, you have got to get some fresh air!" The boy paused. "You're talking crazy," he whispered hurriedly.

Giles poked his head out around the office door the moment he heard the library doors swing open. _Will?_ "Excuse me," he called to the boy. "Did you want something?"

The boy stopped and turned around sluggishly. "Uh no, Mr uh Giles sir…" he said tiredly. "Just came here for a little peace and quiet, you know, seeing as nobody ever seems to come here…"

"Really? I could have sworn that I've seen you in here before" Giles said, thoughtful. "You're a friend of Willow Rosenberg's aren't you?"

"Guilty," the boy replied.

"How is she these days?" Giles asked, concerned. Willow had been the first student that he'd met since arriving at the school and certainly the most likeable and charming thus far in his career. He'd found it disturbing to see her as low as she had been since discovering Jaclyn McCormick.

The student seemed uncertain as he answered the question. "She's looking a lot better right now…I'll let 'er know that uh you were asking 'bout her…" He looked at Giles askance.

Giles smiled. "Oh yes, sorry for keeping you, yes you can leave now!"

The young man nodded as he walked out.

Returning to his office, the Watcher lost all interest in the duties of school librarian. Unlocking the top draw of his desk he turned his attention back to the photocopied Watcher Diaries that he had requested from England.

"Angelus takes the greatest pride in the corruption of all we consider innocent or pure," He read. "Thus his most common targets include young women, virgins, whom he will entice away from their families and forge romantic bonds before murdering them (and often their families, should the mood take him)."

Giles sat in silence.

Praying that his gut was wrong… 

Praying for Willow.


	13. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

C_hapter Eleven_

Angel waited patiently at the bar, cradling his beer in his hands. He didn't exactly feel like drinking, not whilst he hunted his prey. And it frightened him.

Ninety-eight years was a long time. He hadn't murdered until the youngsters that he and Darla had feasted upon in the playground. He'd been out of the game, but his mind was changing; old instincts were returning to him. Willow Rosenberg was slipping away from him. She was to be his next victim, something for him to cherish as he had cherished Drusilla.

She was to be his art.

_You are so beautiful my love,_ he told himself silently as the girl entered his line of vision. _You're_ _so innocent, so chaste. But, oh my darling Willow, my sweetest child, I will make you so much more than you have ever dreamed of becoming…_

Deep inside, he remembered who he was, what his soul had made him. Angel knew that he had to hold on.

For now he had become Angelus, for now he was free again…__

"Hi," Willow kept her voice low.

"Hi. I was hoping you'd show," he told her. He nodded to the bar stool beside him. "Sit yourself down. Coke?"

Willow looked at him uncertainly.

Angel whistled. "Hey barkeep! A Coke for the lady?"

"Thanks," Willow replied, embarrassed.

Looking into the girl's eyes the predator within him became ever more aroused. He was losing it.

_Hold together!_

"Can I ask you a question?" Angel said.

"Sure."

"What's the worst thing in the world?

Willow froze for a moment. She was afraid of the answer that she was about to give him, he recognised that. He'd seen the look in eyes of most of the virginal women that he'd seduced both in his time as vampire _and_ as a human. But that wasn't it…this went deeper for her.

Much deeper.

"Death," Willow said weakly.

"How come? I thought we were supposed to laugh at the ole Reaper?"

"Angel…" Willow said, upset.

"I'm serious Willow," Angel reassured her. "Why does death frighten you?"

"I…can't"

"Hey, its okay, you lost people didn't you. Lost enough of my friends and family to understand that…" Angel said mournfully. _Even if I did lose them myself…_ he reminded himself.

"Oh God I'm sorry. God I feel so stupid now…" Willow said, angry with herself.

"Why? What is it?"

"I…found a dead body a few weeks ago in one of the classrooms at school," Willow imparted sadly. "I'd never seen anything so horrible…it was like she got torn. And why am I telling you this? I hardly even know you!"

Angel stroked her hand. "Because you want to."

"Her body was torn apart Angel, like some dogs got at her! Her throat…her…her. But when I looked at her she was so peaceful…"

Angel nodded. He'd been the first to find the body, he could remember it all as clearly as if it had happened only a second ago. "So now you want to cheat it?"

"I…don't know…" Willow's voice was unsteady.

Angel gave the girl a cold glance. "Its all over your face Will…no wait, that's not the whole story is it?" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "You want to know what its like don't you? You want to find the peace of it too. Its not enough for you to cheat death because you have to experience it…"

A tear streamed down Willow's cheek. "Angel stop you're scaring me…please stop!"

The girl's fear screamed like the banshee inside Angel's heart, consuming his senses, thrilling him. He couldn't wait, how could he? Part of her longed for the darkness to swallow her whole yet her mortal fear continued to inhibit her, tear her soul apart in the confusion. She was afraid of him because he spoke the truth to which she would never truly admit.

She was afraid of him…

"I can help you Willow," he whispered, tightening his grip on the girl's hand. "I can make you live forever…"

"No!" Willow shook violently as she pulled away.

"Willow!" he called hopelessly.

"No get away from me!"

Her head was spinning as she ran into the alleyway. Reason told her that she had made a bad choice, that she should have taken the front entrance but reason no longer held sway over Willow Rosenberg, least of all not now. She just had to get away from him, far, far, away from him, from his words.

She had to get away from the truth.

_What's wrong with me! _She screamed in her thoughts. _Oh God, he's right, oh God he's right…_

"Willow!" he yelled after her. "You can't run from the truth Will. I can help you."

"No!" Willow shrieked. "You're crazy! 'I can make you live forever!' I don't know what you think you are but you're crazy mister!"

"You're right!" Angel confessed walking towards her. "It was crazy talk…because you think _you're_ going crazy Willow, I can help you stop thinking like that. I want to help you be yourself again, get rid of the pain, and make something of yourself! That's how you become immortal Willow!"

He made sense again. He hadn't moved too close. He was giving her space, holding out his hand in friendship, in love. She turned to face him again, in a manner of speaking; his face was masked with shadow – wiped her tears onto the back of her left hand and plucked up the courage to speak. "You gave me the wiggins back there, scared me half to death…"

Angel was close enough to touch her now. And he blew on her? "Weird huh?" he chuckled.

"What?" Willow replied, bemused.

Angel blew on her again.

But she couldn't feel anything…

Angel caressed her cheeks. "I just wanna help you find the truth Willow…" He shifted a hand to grip her neck tightly. He was choking the life out of her.

"Angel!"

"…It'll only hurt a little!" he whispered in a fit of quiet laughter.

He pushed her up against a wall and into the moonlight. "Uh, just thought I'd ask seeing as we're both in this great democracy that is America, do you actually _want_ to be immortal and which would you prefer: neck or throat, I mean either way I won't take much blood its just I'll get a little more if you let me go for the latter – I'm hungry…" Angel told her.

"Please…no," she begged.

"Aw gee, I've got a tear in my eye. Thanks Willow, I've really missed that part. But um could you stop wriggling? It really doesn't help me…" Angel said happily as his features started to shift…

Willow screamed. Like most children she had nightmares about monsters hiding in the shadows or had hid behind sofas during horror movies but what Angel had changed into was different.

Because Angel was real.

Where once had stood the most darkly handsome man that she had seen in her life, now stood a furrowed browed freak with small yellow eyes that bore into her very soul, shaking her to the very core. It would kill her.

And it would relish that moment.

"Angel!" a voice shouted angrily from the darkness.

Suddenly, Angel cried out in pain and moved away from her. There was some sort of arrow in his shoulder.

The figure that emerged from the shadows sent shockwaves through her brain.

_Mr Giles?_

"Get away from him Willow," the librarian ordered.

"Mr Giles! What?"

Mr Giles' eyes widened. "Run back inside! For Christ's sake run!"

Willow could give no argument…

***

Giles kept his crossbow aimed firmly at Angel. The vampire had used him; his heroism had been nothing more than a sham, an act, and a _game_. His mind flashed back to the time Angel had visited him in his office weeks earlier, giving him his heart-warming tale of having been given a soul by Gypsies. He could have killed the vampire there and then. Instead, he had given Angel a chance to sire an innocent girl, to kill her.

Tonight, he would not make the same mistake twice.

Angelus was going to die.

Staring directly at the painful end of a crossbow bolt, Angel wanted to kick himself in the gut: hard.

Willow wasn't going to die. He'd been overzealous with his performance but he'd only intended to scare her; a task that he'd succeeded in completing.

_As well as getting a Watcher to kill me, great night's work._

For about a second or so, he considered attempting to tell Giles the truth. The man probably felt like he'd been double-crossed, hearing about how a reformed vampire intended to sire an innocent girl in order to get the information he needed to stop the 'bad' vampires might actually seem plausible given the circumstances.

_I was doing it to gain their trust, for the good of the world! But I made a mistake…Good plan Angel one hell of a good plan…why don't you just pull the trigger yourself! _

Two options left.

One – kill the man, overpower him, make it quick if he could – they were on the same side regardless – and live to deal with Willow another night without the hassle of the girl knowing what he was and how she could at least try to defend herself.

Two – Carry on with the old Angelus routine, knock the guy out so that he was in the middle of next Tuesday by the time he came too, run off and hope you don't have another run in.

Decisions, decisions…

_Think! You don't want to hurt this man any more than you have to do to stay alive. He's a Watcher, you're doing the same thing. And if and when the shit really hits the fan you'll need someone to ride shotgun… _

"Hi, Giles"

The man said nothing in response. His mind was set; Angel could see it in his eyes. He was more than ready to pull that trigger - There were two ways anger could turn somebody; you got enraged or you got cold.

Giles was cold.

"You know ole buddy, you could hurt somebody with that thing if you're not careful"

Oh Giles was a bloody glacier.

"I suppose, I should give you credit Angel," The Watcher said calmly. "Cursed with a soul? Bollocks yes but you more than made up for it with the lives you 'saved'"

_Then again…maybe I can turn up the heat… _

"C'mon Giles stop! You're making me blush!" Angel said irreverently. "But hey what's with the banter pal? Go ahead dust me!"

Giles stood firm.

Angel sighed. "Hey, I understand this is a big day for Watchers everywhere. I kill what _a_ Slayer? I killed her Watcher. Now here you are about to kill _me_ you want to savour the moment."

The man looked surprised.

"C'mon! Look, if you're no going to put that bolt through me then just let me walk cause I've got better things to do with my Willow…"

"As you wish!" Giles replied through gritted teeth.

His hand was shaking slightly. He'd got him mad.

"Hey Giles, she's a real sweet kid isn't she?"

The Watcher's hand shook more violently.

Seeing his chance, Angel leapt at Giles.

The Watcher pulled the trigger but Angel managed to punch him hard in the jaw, throwing off his aim.

"Sloppy friend." Angel said, kicking him in the middle. "But as much as I'd like to stop and kill you, I've gotta go. See you around _old boy_."

Giles coughed up blood. He was out of it, but he'd be breathing tomorrow.

_See you around Watcher, _the vampire thought, _Hopefully_ _under better circumstances…_

Willow had definitely been spotted at The Bronze last night.So when she wasn't there, he'd called her up. But Willow hadn't picked up and that had made him worry for her.

If she was with Angel…

No. Nothing could happen. Willow wasn't like that.

_But then Willow couldn't get boys like Jesse let alone male models like Angel, whatever girls see in those guys… _

Xander took another quick gulp of his can of Coke. He was frantic. If anybody hurt Willow right now he didn't know what he'd do.

That was it! He was going back to the library…

"Willow," Giles said uneasily. "I realize that you must have a lot of questions following last night and that you want a logical answer. But please understand that what I am telling you is the truth…Oh sod it!"

The chair in front of him did nothing rash.

He bit down on his lip. Willow was an intelligent girl. How was he going to be able to convince her that the man she knew as Angel was in fact a blood-siphoning demon that had possessed a human corpse over two centuries ago? His childhood in a Watcher's family had made it so easy for him to understand that vampires were part of the real world and not a mere myth or invention.

Willow, however, would most likely deny what she had encountered. Angel had tried to take her life, she would've been afraid. And fear led to suppression.

Which led to greater denial.

It was a vicious cycle but one that he still had to break if he was going keep the girl alive.

"Hi there Mr Giles," Xander said with mock cheer.

_Willow's friend? Willow's friend! That's it!_

"Excuse me, might I have a word erm…"

"Xander."

"Uh Yes! Xander, I don't wish to sound intrusive but I couldn't help but overhear yesterday that you have some sort of grievance with a man named Angel, would it be that he's dating Willow Rosenberg?" Giles felt tense. He was stuttering, how on earth was he going to sound convincing?

Xander looked blank. "Mr Giles I…"

Giles flicked through the photocopied pages in front of him. "Please bear with me. This is of the utmost importance!" He removed his glasses as he held out the page he wanted in front of Xander. "This Angel, does he resemble the man in this drawing?"

"What in the name of…his clothes. Historical re-inaction group?"

"His historical name was Angelus which translates as 'the one with the angelic face.' He was born in Galway Ireland. And he has walked the earth for over two hundred years feeding on human blood!" Giles kept his tone deadly serious.

"Exquese me? Did you just say over _two hundred_ years? Blood? Wait let me guess he's a vampire?" Xander stood up. "You librarians really need to get out more. Bye, bye."

"Xander, listen to me!" Giles said forcefully. "He wants Willow so that he can make her as he is: a vampire. If that happens she'll be worse than dead! You will have to go to sleep each night knowing that a demon walks speaking in her voice, wearing her face!"

"No, wait. You just think that there are vampires…"

Giles quickly produced another sheet of paper. "This is a sketch of a vampire's demon visage! Have you seen this before? Xander!"

Giles slammed his fist against the table. He was now shouting at an empty space…

Angel swore as his clock greeted the passing of another long hour. He'd lost control; allowed his passion for the kill to overwhelm him and rule his judgement. He'd rushed into things with Willow.

And he was going to pay for it.

_I had her. She was afraid of me; that should've been it, job done. But I screwed up, led myself up shit creek. Who did I think I was? Brando?_

The vampire knew that his face was transforming. He was angry.

Willow still had to be sired, there was to be no getting away from that fact. Though Giles had become a complication the plan had been set into motion. He had no choice.

But how was he to break the child?

With Drusilla it had been a mere parlour game. She was a child of the purest soul; ripe in its innocence, by separating her from all she held dear he had spiked her fear with the most sublime grief until she was no more than putty in his hands.

Willow had only fear; inside her mind she held her darkest wish: to find the peace of death whilst ultimately defying it but fear was never enough. Siring the girl in the midst of fear? He needed more.

Pain.

_Pain…_

In a moment it became clear to Angel. If he hurt the girl physically, if pain were to be the cornerstone from which he could turn her…

_Tonight… _

***

Waking up, Willow made no note of what time of day it was. After all why should school matter when you've had to stare straight into the eyes the devil? She was safe cooped up in her room where he couldn't harm her.

She was alone.

She smiled a little at the thought of Mom and Dad being home. Ira Rosenberg was a loving father – whether he could believe it himself, he would understand her, hold her, whispering gently that everything was going to be alright now that he was around.

_But Mom!_

Sheila Rosenberg would – in keeping with tradition – lose her head, sounding off with her usual brand of psychobabble. Her daughter was, after all, a "typical" – quote marks for sarcasm – American teenager for whom numerous studies by renowned "experts" (for 'experts' read: herself and her colleagues) could solve any perceived problem or rather a problem that only _she herself _perceived.

_Bet the experts don't have something to say about this…_

Willow laughed out loud; it was either that or cry again. Only a day had passed since she had felt everything to be oh so wonderful. A guy had expressed a romantic interest in her. Twenty-Four or so hours on and he was trying to kill her. Life had once again spiralled out of her control.

She looked up at the ceiling. If someone up there wanted to drive her out of her mind then he was doing a damn fine job of it so far.

A _damn_ fine job - not that she would ever say it out loud…

Angel.

What was he?

But, more to the point, who was 'Mr Giles'…how did he know?

_Thirsty_

Willow uncrossed her legs and slid off her bed to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

Her throat was dry…

Xander walked up Willow's driveway. He'd had enough of school. Lesson time was one thing but a lunatic librarian who thought he was Simon Belmont or something was way too damaging for the brain.

_Yes vampires are real…yes I know Mr Giles…yes you go and fight the mean old vampires…but you really shouldn't get out of your jacket now should you! Vampires, yeah right._

The funny thing was, he'd almost accepted what the Brit was telling him. Whoever had worked on that drawing of Angel – _Angelus – _had made the most striking likeness. But there was no way…no way that vampires were real! Except in horror movies.

Scratching his head, he knocked the front door.

No answer.

"Willow!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "Will? You around?"

Still no answer.

_I know you're there Will, and I'll be back later but right now – as unbelievable as this probably sounds – I've got homework to do before Mr Miller makes me a history lesson tomorrow! _

Willow shed a tear.


	14. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

C_hapter _T_welve_

_After Dusk_

_ _

Darla smiled as she got comfortable in the tree she had made her vantage point since the very first night the girl caught her eye.

If she were to be honest with herself, she had been desperately disappointed over the last few nights for she had seen no sign of Angel harassing the child with whom he was allegedly so enamoured. However perhaps it wasn't his fault, especially after what she'd heard about last night's fiasco near The Bronze (it was always wise to keep tabs). If Angel had a Watcher on his back- though why a Watcher was present in the town was puzzling – he would have to change tact.

Besides, the girl's parents were out of town and obviously out of his reach.

A pity…

Angel had such a way with families…

Still, if her darling boy had truly returned to his senses then the girl would continue to suffer. There was always more than one way to skin the proverbial feline. Angel had confirmed that often enough.

And this child was no exception to the rule.

In the shadows Angel scrutinised the handcuffs he held in his hand. They would do for her hands - he could always find something in the house to bind her legs.

He stepped into a thin shard of moonlight and raised his head. The light was now switched on in Willow's bedroom. She had made her prison in which she could hide from the world outside, from her friends…from him.

_But if no one can get in then nobody can get out, that's the whole point of a cell Willow…_

Angel looked back down at the cracks in the paving stones. _That's me_, he thought bitterly, as he remembered why he had to go through with tonight.

He was killing Willow to stop Darla.

He was killing her for Buffy.

He wasn't killing her…out of bloodlust?

_So help me Whistler…part of me doesn't know the difference anymore_.

With that Angel took another step…

Chat Room, definition: A live computer forum in which people talk to each other by typing on their keyboards. Or in other words, a room in which people 'chat'.

So much for definitions; this site was dead, just like all the others Willow had bookmarked, large international groups of people communicating on them aside.

But then, she had wanted isolation hadn't she? __

"Willow!" a muffled voice screamed dolefully. "Willow!"

Swivelling around in her chair, Willow's heart was stuffed forcefully into her mouth.

Angel.

Hands clammy, she willed him to go away but still she continued to hear his call. Her heartbeat quickened, she breaths shortened.

_Go away!_

"Willow!"

"No!" she screamed.

Angel remained rooted on her front lawn. What could she do…"Stay away from me!" she screamed, her body shaking as her skin became riddled with goose bumps.

"Will-ow! Will-ow! You can't hide forever Willow! You can't stay there forever! You'll have to come out some time!" Angel's tone had changed; he was a malevolent schoolboy from the fourth grade, taunting her into crying, into giving in.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Willow wailed, holding her hands tightly over her ears. "Leave me alone!"

She fell from her chair and crawled across the floor until she reached the lock on her window.

_Leave me alone…Oh God please…help me… _

Willow pushed the window wide open. "Leave me alone!"

"You know that I can't," Angel's voice became more serious. "You don't want me to go, you know that…I love you Willow…"

"Love? I hate you! I hate you! You're a monster!"

"You need me…let me in…"

Willow laughed hysterically. "Let you in? Oh sure come on in and kill me! I don't mind! Leave me alone!"

"Thanks Will," Angel sounded pleased. "I'll be right on up!"

Willow shut her window again feverishly.

_I'll be on up…he can't get in here. Every door's locked – 'best that money can buy'_ _they told Dad…we spent hundreds on them…And its not like people haven't tried break in…I'm safe…_the girl thought warmly as she pressed her back against her bed.

BANG…

_Huh? _

BANG – the noise was coming from downstairs and it was getting louder.

_Oh God…no…no, no, please no…_"No…oh no, please, oh please!" Willow sobbed, holding her knees, rocking back and fore, back and fore…"Cling, clink, ching," she panted. Mimicking the sounds she was starting to hear.

The knock at the door was gentle…

"Little pig," said a hushed voice. "Little pig, may I come in?"

Willow could only shake her head…

***

Opening the bedroom door Angel wore his sickest grin. There she was, rocking backwards and forwards on the floor, tears running gently down her cheeks, trembling before him.

Angel wanted to die.

Her eyes pleaded with him, wide as they drowned in the pain of her mortal heart, the glimmer of life that they had once held now dim, almost if part of her knew that there was no fight to lose.

His heart ached for Willow. He could always walk away, leave her be, find another way to stop The Master. There had to be another way…there _was _another way – in his prayers.

Angel willed his face to change and shook violently. "Heh…n…n…not on the hairs of my chinny-chin-chin?" he stuttered trying to sound scared.

Willow made no sound.

_You're brave kid…don't let go of that…never let go. _

He knelt down beside the girl and stoked her skin lovingly. "Ssh…there's no need to be afraid," he whispered in her ear. "I'm here now," He chuckled softly. "I know you didn't really want me to go. That first night when we kissed in the alley, I knew what you wanted…"

Angel slipped his hand down onto her knee, moving slowly down, underneath her skirt and slowly upwards. "Me…to do more…you wanted more than a kiss."

Willow squirmed as Angel caressed her inner leg.

"I need you Willow," the vampire smirked devilishly. "I want to feel you…"

He leaned closer, cupped the schoolgirl's chin in his free hand and kissed her.

"No…" Willow said feebly. She was falling for him. In the midst of her anguish, he was turning her heart back towards him.

She was his – to do with as he pleased.

He kissed her again, biting her lip as he moved in. "Good girl…"

"Please…" the girl beseeched tearfully.

Angel's smile broadened. "Oh you're ready now aren't you little girl!" he growled with anticipation.

"No!" Willow screamed as he grabbed her hard, tossing her back onto her bed. "No!"

Angel laughed. She was trying to reach out to scram his face with her fingernails as he clambered on top of her. "You're a frisky little bitch aren't you?" he said grabbing her left as it got near his right eye. Willow groaned as he squeezed her wrist.

_Please Willow, stop! You're only making this harder on yourself!_

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced his handcuffs, clasping them to the bedposts before clasping them to the girl's hands.

Her fear was now anger, venom now bled through her eyes. In Willow's heart there was a resolve: I will kill you! She was going to be a rape victim - she would want vengeance. He'd seen it often enough in his village, bitter and twisted women who had the added misfortune of having known their attackers would take their revenge…poison…blade - assuming that they didn't try to end their own lives – they would take their revenge…

Angel could only fantasise that Willow would get the chance to avenge herself.

He pulled off his jacket and shirt, tossing them aside. Willow flinched as she heard the zip of his flies come undone…

"No!" she continued to protest as he tore off her clothes, lifting her skirt.

"Feel free to grunt won't you?" Angel said heartlessly. _And may the Lord forgive me…_

Angel had hurt Willow.

And the girl had screamed.

As he'd torn into her breasts with his fangs so that he could smear the blood across her face.

She'd struggled to cry out as he forced his bloodied fingers down her throat, forcing her to taste her own blood, as she'd tried to cough it up reviled.

How she had struggled.

She had screamed when he strangled her, drinking from her throat as he did so.

And again as he bore his fingers into her wounds, widening them so that he could touch her from the inside…

Willow would die now. God could take her soul with all her love. Just as long as she died…as long as he made the pain stop…

As long as he made it all stop.

"Please," she prayed, spluttering as the blood rose again from her ruptured insides. "Please save me…"

Yet the good Lord again refused an answer.

"Ssh…be happy my child…" Angel said sweetly, cradling her neck. "Close your eyes…and it will all be over…let the darkness wash over you and drift away…"

Willow could no longer make a sound as she felt the burning sensation in the right side of her neck. She had felt it all before…many times…so many times…

Yet as she lost Angel to the shadow that now clawed at her eyes, as she was severed from the world, she felt nothing…

She felt nothing…

_No! _

Without warning she tasted the blood as it filled her body, overwhelming her with its euphoria.

_Oh God! Oh…God… _

Willow smiled madly as the darkness enveloped her…

At last it was over.


	15. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

C_hapter_ T_hirteen_

_Three days later… _

_ _

Xander stood alone now. Mr Rosenberg had asked if he wanted a lift back to his house but he just refused. He needed more time.

More time than he would ever be given.

So this was what happened when you died. One lousy slab of tombstone left in to disappear in a crowd of older and uglier variations on the theme.

But then Willow was a person, had been, a person, she'd been special she had been his friend. Didn't that count for anything? Didn't she matter anymore?

"Geez Will! Why did you have to die huh?" Xander swallowed the lump in his throat. "I've got a Math test tomorrow and I don't get it, who's gonna help me now eh?"

"I understand that there's a reception being held at Willow's home. Why don't you go?"

Xander threw a sideways glance at the man now at his side. "Mr Giles. I uh saw you hiding earlier…you know I don't think Willow would've minded another mourner…but then its not like she would have wanted any huh?"

"Xander," Giles said softly. "Staying here isn't going to make things any easier you know."

Xander looked the Watcher hard in the eye. "Guess not, but somebody's got to talk to 'er."

Giles looked down at his feet as the wind caught hold of his long black coat. "I heard that you were the one who discovered the body? "

He had.

He'd skateboarded his way to Willow's a few hours before school in the hope that they could maybe walk there together, like they used to – whenever he felt up for exercise.

Naturally he was wigged the second he reached the house – the lock had been forced open on the front door – so his first instinct had been to walk inside and call out to see if Willow was alright (not to mention scare off whoever had tried their hand at breaking and entering).

At that point he'd felt like one of those pretty kids in a slasher movie because if he heard anybody moving around it was him. So, in the spirit of the movie blood & gore fest, he'd walked up the stairs to Willow's room.

But no moviemaker would ever have the stomach to mimic Willow that morning – not even Craven.

For the next twenty minutes before calling the police, he'd kept himself rooted in the doorway: unable to speak, unable to hear, and unable to feel.

And unwilling to live.

_She was… _

"…She uh…was as white as a ghost and she had this smile on her face…but then if I knew that I was gonna die then I'd probably look the same…" Xander sniffed as he wiped his tears in the cuff of his shirt. "She um had all these gaping wounds over her…the bastard ripped open her throat! The bastard ripped her goddamn throat open…and the worst part was I knew I could've prevented it!"

"You could have done nothing," Giles said firmly. "Please believe me…"

Xander crouched down by the grave. "Angel killed 'er didn't he?"

"Yes," Giles informed him. "I think he did."

"Thank you!" Xander snapped. "You see _now _this means that I screwed up! I should've listened to you! But I didn't and now my best friend is lying deep in the ground!" He ripped off a patch of grass. "Because of me…"

"Why?" Giles frowned. "Why? You live in a world where there's good and bad, evil is a word for serial killers or rapists and monsters live in books or movies. You call it 'real life' and for most of us it is…so why…"

"You told me the truth, that's why!" Xander yelled back. "You told me the truth and even though my gut said Angel was bad I called it bullshit!" He exhaled. "Damn…I'm sorry I'm just um out of it right now…so what's gonna happen to her?"

"Things hardly change," Giles said, grimly. "Willow Rosenberg will remain dead."

"But you said something about Angel turning her into a vampire."

"Something he's probably done," the Watcher said. "But mark my words, what will rise from that grave won't be Willow."

"I don't get it," Xander replied earnestly.

Giles shook his head. "Now isn't the time. Come on let's get back to Willow's house hmm? You've got more than enough to think about at the moment without vampires buggering things up."

"Yeah nobody's gonna worry about Angel any more," Xander said defiantly. "I'll tell ya that…"

_Brave words Xander, _the Watcher thought dejectedly. _But I fear that however brave your actions, Angel is not yours to stop…_

"Xander," Giles looked at the younger man askance. "I want you to swear that you will not come here tonight or ay night hereafter until the vampire 'Willow' has risen."

Xander bit down on his lip. "Why?"

"Angel will be waiting for Willow, it's his M.O. if you like. He always strives to take an active part in the 'upbringing' of those he turns. Why, a human might have a chance to stake a vampire as it rises but with Angel there you wouldn't get out alive."

"Parents," Xander grumbled. "So what do we do?"

"If _we _are going to do anything then we'll meet in the library tomorrow morning before classes commence," Giles told him. "Because if Willow does rise tonight then you'll have to ready for her…"

_Galway, Ireland, 1753_

He was being suffocated by the darkness.

Where was he?

How long had he been sleeping? Many had been the night when he'd found himself waking up in a strange place but he almost felt like he was in a…grave?

The voices flooded his mind.

"Dust, to dust,"

"What the bloody hell de ye get yourself into now eh? God, I miss ye you worthless piece of dog shite! I bloody miss ye!"

"You'll be safe now Liam. Up with all the Angel's God will take care of ye…Hold me Mammy…"

"Rest now…my Angel…my darlin' child."

_No! Can't be dead! I can't be dead! _

They were wrong. He was alive; his eyes were open as wide as they had ever been.

He had to be free.

He was alive…

Anxiously he pushed up, forcing all his power into his arms. "Come on ye bastard! Open! For Christ's sake open!" he growled.

_Yes!_

Soil now visible, he dug furiously. The outside world waited for him to return to it and he couldn't wait to be back.

As the cold night air took his hand, he sighed his relief and forced himself higher, coughing as his lungs filled with earth…

But he was free…

Angel studied the grave cautiously as the ground started to shift - someone was getting ready to spread her wings again.

His mind had drifted back to his own night of rebirth. He had known so little about his nature and yet Darla had taught him so much within hours. She had been the finest of teachers instilling him with the mistaken belief that he could do the same with the first of his creations, Drusilla.

Such a confused creature she had been back then. Not that he could truly blame the child - not after all he had done to her.

With luck, Willow would prove a somewhat easier pupil.

_Or at least more predictable…_

Straightening up from his crouched position, Angel put on a pleased smile as the newborn vampire's fingers reached out against the mound of dirt they had cultivated.

_Welcome to my nightmare Willow. _

"Wakey, Wakey sleepyhead," Angel said exuberantly. "Ready for breakfast?"

Willow dragged herself out before whirling around. "Where…am…I?" she asked, startled. The vampire caught a glimpse of her gravestone. "Hmm…I'm dead."

"Something like that," Angel remarked gleefully.

"Huh?" the newborn turned swiftly, her face shifting to its demon state. "Angel," she hissed. "I don't like you!"

Angel held his arms out wide. "Now Willow is that anyway to talk to your Daddy?" he teased.

Willow took a step back. "You're a bad man, Angel!"

Angel shrugged. "Be that as it may kiddo, I'm the only one you've got right now. And if I know you as well as I think I do," he looked down at his wrist. "Then you've gotta be hungry eh?"

The other vampire sulked, nodding. "Hungry," she repeated parrot-fashion as her face became human again.

"Alright then! Let's go get _someone_ to eat!"

"Hmm…hmm…_someone_," Willow murmured in amusement.

Angel flashed a smile in response.

The Sunnydale main street was always crowded at night. Teenagers took in a coffee (and a date) at the Expresso Pump while the drunken revellers who actually managed to get out of The Fish Tank made out in dark alleys with the loose women they'd just picked up or slurred a broken pass at anything in a skirt.

If you liked to hunt in the open air but wanted the confined spaces of The Bronze then it was a pretty good location to get your blood from.

Angel turned his thoughts back to his new companion. Who was she? How much of the girl he'd tortured remained now that she was a vampire?

Again his mind led him back to Drusilla. The girl had been as Pandora's Box to him. In life: a sweet and God fearing child of innocence.

In death: a murderess born of insanity.

Now another box was beginning to open, unleashing its darkest secrets on the world. But then that had been the whole point of the suffering he had made her endure. Willow Rosenberg could never be a predator.

He'd needed her to be something else.

Now, he would know if he had succeeded.

"They're all yours for the taking," he whispered in her ear.

"Yummy," the fledgling vampire mewed.

"You have to be," Angel cut himself off. Willow was already moving onward, leaving him to look on in morbid curiosity. "Careful…"

Life has its winners and, it has its fair share of losers. For every high school football star there's a baker's dozen of unpopular kids getting snubbed.

Case in point: Jonathan Levenson.

His shift at the Expresso Pump was history but it wasn't like he had anything better to do than just sit at a table, cradle a cappuccino, and stare out into space.

So that's what he did.

"They're all jerks," he told himself, for comfort.

Truth was; he'd never really been placed in a position to form an opinion about anybody apart from himself. People ignored him outright, said one meagre 'hi' per week, or took it upon themselves to make him not only the butt of jokes, but also _a _joke. That was the way things went, how could people not be jerks?

It wasn't if he ever really compensated academically. Oh, he would work until he sweat blood, and every single one of his teachers addressed him by name. But for all his effort, he got nothing. Praise was for other people. People like Willow Rosenberg who obviously could do no wrong. In-school clubs aside, the Expresso Pump was all he had.

And what a 'great' job he had. He worked an hour shift two school nights and weekends. His reward? Getting wrapped around Cordelia Chase's finger, that was what! Sometimes Jonathan wondered if the girl would ever be happy when he prepared and served her coffee. "It's too hot!" "There's not enough froth _Jonathan._" – he could take criticism, he really could, but did she have to sound like a kindergarten teacher talking to a little kid?

No, he had life down. He no longer talked to anyone and everything was better for that, he'd wasted too much effort.

He let his mind drift off again. He was in his world now, nice and 'happy' in his self contained little life.

"Hello Jonathan."

_Willow Rosenberg?_

Almost everybody in school knew Willow either by sight or her rep. She was bookish, shy, and hardly the most popular girl around. But the girl had brains and she used them.

The girl who now sat beside him though…

She looked like Willow, she sounded like Willow, she basically dressed like Willow (a pink cardigan and white tee), and yet there was something not quite okay about her.She wore the slyest smile that he'd ever seen and if he didn't know better, he could've sworn that she sounded like she was drugged up to her eyeballs.

Not to mention the fact that she looked off colour, the dirt on her clothes…he hadn't seen her around of late…Willow Rosenberg was becoming a junkie?

"Hi," he replied, surprised.

"Bored?" Willow asked, pouting.

"Why are you talking to me?" _Oh great now she thinks you're weird!_ Jonathan thought angrily.

"I like you," Willow said, reaching out to touch his hands.

Jonathan jerked back at the girl's touch. She felt like ice. "Uh huh?"

"Don't you like me?" Willow turned her head away sulkily. "You're like Math."

_Oookay, now you're scaring me. _

"You're just no fun," Willow continued. "And I'm all hungry…"

"I…I could get you something if …y…you want?"

Willow smiled. "You're sweet," she said slowly. "I bet you're sweet."

"Gee," Jonathan answered uneasily. "Thanks…I think."

"Come here," the red-haired girl beckoned for him to lean over the table.

Jonathan knew that he was shaking. "Okay…"

Willow leaned over.

What? What was she doing?

The girl groaned as she licked his neck. "Mmmm…tasty…mmm."

"Hey! What…are –"

Jonathan was interrupted as he felt the searing pain in his neck…

"Stop it!" he screamed agitatedly.

But Willow ignored him, moaning happily.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

Suddenly, the girl pulled away from him.

He dug his fingernails hard into the table as he slumped down onto it – why?

"You _are_ sweet," Willow commented.

Jonathan raised his head and placed his hands on the side of his neck "Wha?" He felt tears well in his eyes as he stared at his palms. "Blood? Oh God! Oh God!"

"Bored now," Willow stifled a yawn.

"Oh God! What are -"

Life has its winners, and it has more than its fair share of losers.

Case in point:Jonathan Levenson.

No social life, not even much of a school life, a job that he hated doing.

And the last thing he gets to see before he dies is the disfigured demonic face of a vampire.

Still, maybe he didn't lose out completely. At least she snapped his neck.

At least it came quick…

Angel said nothing as Willow casually walked back to the alley; he just smiled. She had killed without hesitation, ignorant to those who surrounded her, to whose who might have witnessed her.

And she'd had fun.

In that moment, he knew that he'd succeeded in his goal.

Though his restored soul cried out to him in torment, though the guilt would drive him to the point of madness, he would continue to run his gambit.

_One life for a whole world,_ he had told himself for solace – now he knew that to be a lie, Willow would kill again.

The vampire almost laughed out at the irony of it all. For thirty-eight years he had proudly taken credit for Drusilla's kills and yet now all he wanted to do was disassociate himself from Willow.

Now he remembered who he was and why he had turned a harmless girl into a monster. But could the ends justify the means?

Angel still had no answer…


	16. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

C_hapter _F_ourteen _

The front page of the morning's "special edition" of the Sunnydale Press sent a chill through the whole of his being.

As was typical for the town, there were few witnesses to the killing - even though the area was most likely heaving with young people – but even the vague description that the police had pieced together for the media was enough for him to identify the culprit.

However much he wanted to deny it.

"Okay I'm here," Xander's tone sounded hard to his ears.

Giles checked his watch. "You're here early."

"Saw the news," Xander remarked. "I guess Willow's back huh?"

Giles removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I would say that there's no doubt," he said. "But you've addressed my first point."

Xander said, "You've lost me."

"You said 'I guess Willow's back.'" the Watcher got up from his seat. "Willow, the person you loved, your friend, hasn't returned from the dead. What killed that boy last night was the thing that killed her."

Xander remained still, without reply. Giles could only empathise with the young man. In his time as a Watcher he had lost a great many friends and colleagues - all too many of them to the demons that he had pledged to help combat – but the thought of any one of them being sired; of their lives being claimed by a demon soul was almost to abhorrent to contemplate.

Let alone experience in life.

Xander spoke up. "Alright, this is the second time you've tried to explain this to me but…"

Giles rubbed the back of his neck. "Xander, please try to understand. When a person is sired, or made into a vampire that person dies, their soul travels off to whatever afterlife we are meant to discover.

But once this occurs, a demon enters the corpse, possessing the human body. That demon then assimilates the contents of the host body's mind. It takes the human soul's place, steals its identity. The demon then needs to feed on blood to sustain itself.

The thing that killed last night wasn't Willow – it's a demon that is fashioning a sense of self or rather its personality from what was inside her."

"So you're saying it's like a Pod person or something, right?" Xander suggested. "A vampire steals bodies."

"Well, I wouldn't have made a film reference but yes…"

"That thing has got nothing to do with Will," Xander continued. "It killed because it's a demon."

Giles couldn't prevent himself from frowning. Essentially, Xander was correct – a vampire was a demon and so Willow was not _responsible_ for murder.

But vampires – like so many things in life – weren't quite so simple.

"Hang on a second," he warned. "Willow has her part to play in all of this Xander, or at least her mind does. Every vampire goes through an initial stage during which they discover themselves."

"What are you saying?" Xander said sharply.

"Some vampires come through the confusion of their birth and essentially become carbon copies of the host, killing aside, but others are less recognisable, they become total perversions because they unlock things from within the host…things that the host would have hidden: thoughts, feelings…"

"No! I'm not gonna stay here and listen to this!" Xander said shakily. "Willow was no killer!"

"We all have a 'dark side' Xander, even if its never indulged," Giles said coldly.

Xander sat down. The message in the Watcher's eyes was received and understood. The past wasn't exactly a source of pride for the librarian but it had taught him lessons.

Grave lessons.

"So what happens next?" Xander asked.

"Angelus has a very precise pattern of killing," Giles informed him. "He either kills a person's immediate family and friends before he turns them or - "

"Let me guess," Xander interrupted. "He gets the new vamp to do it."

Giles nodded grimly. "_My_ guess is he'll do the same with Willow. So I suggest you learn how to fend off a vampire."

"Great, I always wanted to know how to that," Xander sniped. "Does it involve crosses, holy water, garlic and stakes by any chance?"

Giles nodded his affirmation before he entered his office.

_But lets hope that they'll be good enough. _

_ _

***

Willow was pining to leave the apartment, leaning against a wall, forever mumbling about how "unfair" it was of him to keep her locked in on such a sunny day. Were Willow still the girl he'd killed, it would have been cute.

But as it was she only managed to revile him.

"Sure thing kitten," Angel shrugged. "You go outside and enjoy a good old fashioned barbecue tan."

"I'm bored," Willow sniffed.

Angel gave her a sympathetic look. "Hey, you killed a man last night kid! That felt good didn't it?"

Willow's eyes lit up. "Fun. He was sweet."

"Yeah? Well as soon as nasty old Mr Sun goes down, you can do it some more eh?" Angel said wickedly.

Willow looked incensed. "I'm not a little girl, Angel! I'm smart, I'm a computer geek!" she said with a hint of self-loathing. "Eggggh! I'm _soooo_ damn cute…sigh."

_Cute? Well, that's a word, if not exactly the one I'd use_, Angel thought miserably. She did have a point though, in a bizarre way Willow was Drusilla's little sister but she was also her own animal. She needed to be handled differently. __

"You teenage girls really don't change through the centuries do you?" he commented. "Want new threads?"

"I'm too fuzzy," Willow complained fiercely. "I'm a vampire. I should be more…vampy!"

"Okay, we'll do a little shopping in between the bloodletting tonight," Angel said.

"Why are you being nice to me?" Willow raised an eyebrow. "You hurt me…"

Angel grinned. "Because I like you Will," he said reaching out to stroke the young vampire's face.

Willow cooed.

"I almost forgot," Angel added. "I want you meet an old friend of mine tonight."

"I like it better just us," the young vampire purred affectionately.

Angel flashed another smile.

Being a vampire meant that you got forced to do some pretty unpleasant things - killing and drinking blood? His new charge was having no problem dealing with either of them.

Sewers on the other hand were a definite source of discomfort.

Willow had just stole herself a pair of tight fitting leather pants, a small leather jacket, gloves and leather underwear from a hooker outside the 'Tank – she really didn't want to get her new gear dirty…

Angel gave his newborn a withering look. "Stop complaining," he kept his tone low. "We're almost there…I think."

In his efforts to avoid any of Darla's playmates, Angel had taken time to learn the flow of traffic through the sewer system and had almost been able to work out how to get to the church ruins the Master had used as his base. Unfortunately, _almost_ was rapidly becoming 'not good enough'.

_So much for surprising Darla…great work Angel…great work._

"Hold it!" a voice growled strictly.

Turning, Angel came face to face with two male vampires.

"Hi fellas! Nice night eh?"

The vampires remained steely eyed.

"What is your business?" one demanded. He was a broad man, thirties maybe, looked strong but his loud Hawaiian shirt hardly shouted tough.

_Must be getting close._

"I'm looking for a couple of friends of mine," Angel said jovially.

"Then look somewhere else friend," the second spat, narrowing his eyes. Whoever he was, the guy looked more convincing to Angel's eyes. With his black silk shirt and matching denim jeans he wanted to say that he meant business.

"Hey, hey! Now wait a minute," Angel looked around as if he was in shock. "Take it easy boys, we don't want any trouble."

"Then leave!" the first vampire snarled.

"C'mon, we can talk about this like civilised folks can't we?"

The other vampires moved closer, taking special care to show off their fangs. "Leave," the first repeated.

Angel struggled nervously with his shirt collar. "Now, hey… c'mon…I'm not exactly big on violence…"

Willow spun and aimed a roundhouse kick into the side of the second vamp's neck.

Angel delivered a left hook into the first vampire. "But it doesn't mean I can't enjoy it!"

_Alright, lets take stock Angel. Teaching Willow to kill? Check. Getting Willow to listen to and trust you…guess so. Teaching Willow how to handle herself in a fight? No, didn't think so! _

He'd taken time out to prioritise. Willow might have been good enough to get in the first hit but she was still unschooled when it came to combat.

There was only one thing to do.

Angel vamped out as his opponent knocked him to the floor, reaching into his jacket even as he fell backwards.

"You should have left _friend_," he coughed triumphantly, kicking Angel in the groin.

"Ditto!" Angel grunted as he rammed his stake into the other vampire's left eye. The creature wailed frenziedly, holding its hands to its face. Angel felt his face return to normal and reached back into his jacket, removing a second stake. "See, hidden pockets," he said. "Oh wait! Guess you can't can you."

The demon's body crumbled into dust.

Willow was having a lot of fun. _Was_ being the appropriate word. Whoever this vampire was she didn't like him. Especially now that was ramming her head into a wall.

Repeatedly.

_I'm going to give you such a hurt,_ she thought grumpily. It just wasn't fair. She was now a vampire; she killed and got her kicks like anyone else. What issue did these guys have with her and Angel?

_I'm going to give you such a hurt,_ she repeated inwardly as her attacker swung her into a wall back first.

"You're new aren't you?" the vampire said coolly. "A pity -"

Willow smiled as Angel pulled the vampire away from her. In her mind it was like the first time all over again. The vampire swung a punch before Angel blocked and countered. It wouldn't be long now – Angel had delivered a straight kick to the ribcage and was kneeing the other vampire in the gut, bringing him down.

Angel tossed his stake from hand to hand. "Willow," he beckoned to her with his index finger. "Come 'ere."

"Thanks," she purred. "He made me all sore!"

Angel smirked, tossing her his stake. "He's all yours Will."

Her eyes lit up as her hands gently stroked the wooden shard. It was time for her to have a little payback. She raised the vampire's head up by its hair. "Oh, did Angel hurt you?"

Willow cut into the demon's cheek with her stake. "Because I'm going to hurt you some more."

Willow sighed. Her Angel had made it all better. She could have fun again…

Darla hated waiting around. Patience might have become virtue for Luke and the holier than thou boot lickers that had surrounded him for the last few centuries during their search for the writings of Arulius, yet to her to wait for time to pass amounted to growing old, or as was the case with her kind, feeling as old as you actually were.

Wistfully, she had contemplated running off to join Angelus; it was seven in the evening, he would be awake by now. But, Luke had requested her presence and for all his hard headedness she was honour bound by The Master to obey him…

_Until he rises…_she thought contentedly. Her sire had always appreciated her _independent_ nature.

"Brethren!" Luke's cry was thunderous.

_Finally._

At last it would begin. Chanting for seven days and seven nights wasn't strictly on her list of 'to do's' but at least it would start to bring things to a close. By the end, her sire would awaken from his long slumber, "ready to take the throne of the mortal realm"

He would be free.

"Until he wakes," Luke shouted joyously. "We shall not feed again. But, come the night of glory that shall be the harbinger of his return to us, we shall rejoice for then shall come The Harvest when the Old Ones will walk and all this earth shall be The Master and the blood of man shall run like rivers! And…we…will...DRINK!"

Darla sighed while the others cheered their still beating hearts out. Their continued confidence in Luke was becoming ever more pathetic.

For decades her 'brother' had made the promise that he would free their leader so that he might hold his "rightful dominion over the Earth"

And for decades he had failed to keep it. Clearly the nineties would prove no different. Yet still she had to suffer this pointless ordeal night after night.

Darla grinned. _Luke must be getting nervous_, she thought with relish.

"WE WILL DRINK, DRINK OF THEM ALL!" Luke continued boldly.

"Well its nice to know that you haven't changed Luke. Once a drama queen, always a drama queen."

"Who dares?" Luke roared, furious.

Darla already knew the answer.

"I dare!" Angel returned, mimicking the older vampire's voice.

"Angelus," Luke's tone was low.

"So, The Master isn't awake yet huh?" Angel remarked. "Say Luke have ya tried tickling him under the nose with a feather?"

"You're not welcome here," Luke said icily.

"Beg to differ ole buddy," Angel replied smugly. "Darla passed on an invitation. I'm back in the game now, oh and I hope ya mind but I brought a friend along!"

Luke looked like he was ready to blow a fuse when the girl appeared dragging the body of Andrew behind her. He'd been a good fighter yet one look at his weeping cuts and the blood drying on the girl's hands…

"Oh, c'mon Lukey boy," Angel said brightly. "Sending your attack dogs to kill any visitors? Not exactly neighbourly!"

Luke gave no response aside from a glare. It had been a long time since he and Angelus had last crossed paths but it was if nothing had changed in Rumania. He could still get under his skin.

Just like his 'mother'.

"Welcome back Angel," Darla said lovingly. She took a sideways glance at Willow. "Interesting."

Angel looked pleased. "She's one helluva girl," he gestured to his companion. "Willow, meet your grandma, Darla. Darla, this, well, this is Willow…sorta."

"Hello," Willow said, apparently uninterested. She turned to her sire. "Bored now."

Angel frowned disapprovingly. "Now, Will Darla has invited me to stay with her and her friends here," he whispered. He grinned and raised the volume. "And hey, if your Uncle Luke doesn't screw up again, may be you'll get to meet the guy who's gonna rule the planet eh?"

Again Luke did nothing.

Darla felt her grin broaden. Her darling boy was back where he belonged. He was home.

Ready to take his place at The Master's right hand.

Forever.


	17. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

C_hapter Fifteen_

When he'd first opened his eyes Angel had been confused. He couldn't be here. He couldn't.

Yet it was all so real, the smells, the sounds, his clothes. He was in Manhattan. Whistler was busy stuffing his face with a hot dog but they were standing near the same stand as that first night on which they'd met.

He'd travelled back in time? Had Sunnydale been nothing more than a daydream?

"I know what you're thinking," Whistler said, with a mouthful. "What the hell's happening right?"

"Something like that," Angel answered wearily.

The demon forced in the last two bites of his 'dog, licked mustard off his bottom lip and threw his serviette into the gutter. "This is a dream. This is a dream that you shouldn't even be having because you shouldn't even be here but what can I say?"

"What?"

"Never mind," Whistler mumbled. "Truth is Angel, the world wasn't meant to be like this but I did my best, fixed you up, gave you all the pigs blood you could wish for, figured you'd keep things steady for awhile –"

_This world was supposed to be like this…_

"But what you've done and what you're doin' ain't right kid. You got a role to play: the good guy. Now, to be honest, I ain't got a clue what role you got to play in this thing anymore Angel but I do know that you're not helping anybody right now."

"Its not that simple. Willy was killed; Giles doesn't seem to know much about The Master. I had to do something to find out what's gonna happen!" Angel retorted.

"Think so?"

Angel nodded.

"You remember where I parked the car last year? It's there now. I've got something to show you." Whistler said bleakly.

"I'm game," Angel replied.

"We'll see," Whistler told him. "We'll see."

The car, if you could still call it that, was parked three blocks away in a back alley. Angel smiled. Everything was exactly as he remembered it; the dented hood and bumpers, windows blacked out and the how could he ever forget the rust getting ready for victory over the front end.

But then car, like owner, kept a few tricks up its sleeve. The ability to move for one.

"You ready?" Whistler prompted from the driver's seat.

"Ready," Angel said slamming the passenger's door.

The light blinded him. 

***

The car stopped outside Willy's Alibi room. He was in Sunnydale again. What did Whistler need to him to see there?

Whistler got out first. "C'mon, it's all happening inside."

What Angel saw as he entered the bar beggared all belief.

There he was – black leather jacket, white tee – ramming another vampire's head hard into the bar, shattering several glasses in the process…

"I'm gonna ask you again," he rasped. "What's the plan?"

"You're too late!" the vampire drawled. He took hold of its collar and brought him up against a wall.

He punched the vampire in the gut. "What's the plan?" He punched again – harder. "What's the plan? If I'm too late Luke's not gonna give a damn about me!"

The vampire gurgled, a laugh?

He punched again. "You know the question."

Angel turned to Whistler. "What is this?"

"_This_ is part of how things should've gone down," Whistler said, peeved. "Let me explain. Darla and co should have arrived in town a little later, but anyway, you see Darla hunting at The Bronze, alarm bells ring so you go ask ya 'pal' Willy for the dirt.

"Now you know that Willy is gonna get into serious trouble so ya stop hunting for awhile and stake out The Alibi Room every night until tonight, when you see three vamps ready to take Willy out…"

"And I stop them, I stake two and interrogate the other," Angel said sadly. "But if Darla 's come here early then if I did this I would've put myself at risk…"

Suddenly, he was out of doors.

"Now this is what you did with your info if things went right," Whistler announced. "Look over there…"

_Buffy!_

The Slayer was different. She was older now, with a hard look in her eyes and yet she remained the young woman with whom he had so completely fallen in love. And he, the Angel that he saw before him, was speaking with her.

But the moment was soon lost as the words reached him.

"…The harvest"

"Get it now?" Whistler asked.

"No!"

Angel woke with a scream. It was all so clear to him, so painfully clear. Buffy should have found her way to Sunnydale by now, yet something had altered events. The balance of power was wrong, the evil, the vampires were getting closer to their victory and…

The Slayer would never discover them.

_Buffy! No! This is wrong! It's all wrong!_

Willow needn't have died. He should have kept watch over Willy the snitch, stopped the vampires that murdered him, given word of The Harvest to Giles.

He tightened his grip on the bed sheets as Darla rose to his side.

"Angel?" she yawned, worried. "Angel? What is it?"

"Nothing," he replied, Darla had wrapped her arms around him. "Just, a bad dream," he kissed his sire's wrists.

Pulling on his vest, the guilt enraged him. Time had passed since he had been told of The Harvest but he remembered, he would always remember…

The hallowed words of The Master…

_ _

_London, 1756 _

_ _

For two years, Angelus had prided himself on his lack of fear. Why, he'd murdered a Slayer – last years' beating aside – how many vampires could make such a boast _honestly_?

Yet as he stood before the one Darla had called The Master fear quickly became familiar again.

He was unlike any vampire he had ever encountered with his chalk white skin and the maintained inhumanity of his face. Whether it was attributable to his considerable age, Angelus was unsure, but it would fail to matter even if that were the truth. Evil was part of Heinrich Joseph Nest's very being.

And it drew Angelus to him as fire drew the moth.

"Oh please, don't bow Angelus!" the ancient vampire had said informally. "You have no idea how _tiresome_ it is to see others of our kind bow when they see me…"

"Master?" he had exclaimed, rising out of bemusement.

The Master rose from his throne and walked down to him. "You're not the bowing type my boy! You're a law unto yourself! And…" The vampire was now only centimetres away. "I…like that!" he laughed heartily.

"Thank you Master," he had said with reverence as the older demon gestured for them to walk together.

"Darla has told me a lot about your exploits Angelus," The Master had said. "I particularly liked the ones about your murdering your way through the Welsh – I was there when they didn't speak English…ghastly native tongue!"

"Yes."

The Master then sighed longingly. "Ah to be young again," he had told him. "When you're young there's so much…experimentation left to do, so many new things! I really do envy you.

"You see Angel, I have lost all interest in this undead life. I mean what is the point in all this endless hunting? Sooner or later they all taste the same."

Angelus only nodded. Only moments ago he had trembled in the Master's presence. Now, the reason why became a mystery to him. Powerful as the elder vampire assuredly was, he was also more overtly human in his manner than any of his followers: So much for Luke and his hellfire and brimstone.

"However, not one to rest on my laurels," the Master continued. "I decided that ruling the world might be fun for a time, raising the Old Ones…hence my little family." He flashed a devilish smile. "Why have I asked you here you might be wondering…well, as loyal as Luke is -"

"You need a new lieutenant," Angelus had interjected.

The Master chuckled loudly. "This is why I like you Angel! Now, my followers will expect me set you some kind of great test!" he bellowed theatrically. "And make no mistake Angel, I _will_ do so – I've no qualms about risking your existence…"

"I understand."

"Yes, I think you do," the vampire had replied.

Idle conversation continued for what must have been well over twenty minutes until the Master produced a book that - he had deemed to be a little oversized. But the Master wanted to draw his attention to it. He could hardly refuse to. He'd seen what happened to those who questioned the ancient demon and Angelus happened to be rather fond of both his eyes, not to mention his tongue…

"…But unfortunately freeing the Old Ones requires a little effort on our part," The Master had gone on. "And it always pays to have some _insurance_. Take this event for instance 'The Harvest'. Once every hundred years or so I am able to feed on the blood taken by one of my followers, 'The Vessel' thus making me stronger. Rivers of blood…

It's rather tiresome but still, you never know when it might come in useful!"

To that end the vampire then handed him the book for a little "bedtime reading" although in reality he did little more than browse through a few pages. Of course he would have done more.

Had he not fallen out with his grandfather, and _eloped_ with Darla…and promised that she would never return…

***

From where Giles was standing, Don McLean had been right: the music was dead and noise now danced upon its grave like a brain damaged chimp.

His generation had Mott The Hoople, David Bowie, and The Velvet Underground. This one had some admittedly decent acts like R.E.M. but ultimately preferred mumbling long-haired morons who looked and sounded as if they were having spasms.

Thankfully, the Watcher hadn't come to The Bronze for the music.

The small club had become something of a snack bar for the town's vampire population. You could almost guarantee that someone would disappear; hence his decision to make his way to the nightspot. A Slayer he wasn't but Angel aside, few had put up much of a fight so far. If he could catch a few blood sucking fiends by surprise then maybe he'd save a few lives.

Or at the very least save his _own_ back.

_Come on, come on! There's plenty of necks to go around,_ he thought heartlessly. He needed to spot a vampire.

He wanted to spot Angel…

It was just like the good old days – Angel was at her side, eager for a fresh kill and even more so for her.

Darla was happy again.

"The Bronze," Darla said with a sly grin. "Shall we?"

"After you," Angel returned firmly.

_What's wrong with him?_

The Bronze was the same as it ever, that was to say that it was filled with dozens of easy meals and all of them young, tender. Hardly a challenge for two such as her and her darling but blood was still blood.

And the taste of fear was always a thrill for the senses.

"I'm getting a drink from the bar," Angel said. "Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks," Darla said preoccupied. Something wasn't right. Angel was distant, not his usual happy go lucky self…

No, a kill would change that.

He was fine.

He was Angelus…

"Hey,"

"Hey," Darla replied shyly.

The boy was a perfect start for the night: well-built, black hair gelled slightly, cock sure smile.

He'd do.

"Names Devon," the boy said smoothly.

"Darla,"

"Band sucks huh?"

"Uh huh"

_And so do I…_

Angel pretended not to notice but he knew he was there, Giles The Watcher, probably waiting for a glimpse of a demon ushering his prey out of the club. Most likely he'd been here for hours, coming in early so that the crowds could provide good cover. When you wore a jacket and tie in a joint like this one, you needed all the cover you could get.

But he knew he was there.

The man was waiting for _him_. Jonathan Levenson's murder had been well documented. Giles was a smart man; he'd have put two and two together without effort. He knew what he'd done to Willow. The whole affair was personal to the Englishman. He'd tricked him, betrayed his trust.

Angel could think of no better reason for killing a person, let alone a vampire.

He had to do something. Darla was already getting to work on another set of balls and if they both tried to leave the Watcher would be onto them…He downed the last drop of beer from the bottle and swivelled on his stool._ _

Angel glanced at his sire.

Darla gave a slight smile as he made his way out the back of the club….

_Sorry Giles old chap but you're not getting the satisfaction…_

Giles waited while the blonde laughed her way out of the backdoor. She had to be Darla, Angel's own sire. The Watcher reached into his jacket, putting his hand to his crossbow and made his way down the stairs from the upper level.

It was time…

"Haven't you ever made out on a tombstone?" Darla queried.

Devon looked nervous. "Uh yeah! _Sure_…" he said amorously.

Graveyards had always been amongst her favourite places to feed. It was simplistic but it was still very fitting to kill someone in the same place where his bones would later reside.

Besides which this one was close to home, thanks to the electrical tunnel entrance underneath the mausoleum.

It was time to get on with the matter at hand. She leaned in close, giving him an opportunity to touch her breasts.

And giving her an opportunity to give him the hickey of a lifetime…

_Jealous yet Angel?_ She wondered, taking a slight glance at her bloodchild as he stood in the shadow of a tree.

"Hey," Devon moaned. "That feels good!"

Darla let her instincts take over, her face changed… "Yeah," she groaned.

She could hear his heart beating faster. He wanted her to take him. He wanted her more than anything in the world now.Tenderly, she bit into his skin…

"Oh God!" Devon howled excitedly. "Jesus! Don't stop!"

"I rather think that she's going to!"

Startled, Darla pulled away. "Really?"

"It's over Darla," Giles said sternly, cross in hand.

Darla looked her adversary up and down. It was the Watcher, the one who'd dared to stop Angel. She chuckled. What was it with these Watcher's hadn't the twentieth century happened already? Tweed?

Still, she wouldn't hold his dress sense against him.

She'd make it quick enough.

"So _you_ think that you can stop us." Darla giggled girlishly. "Oh _please_! I'll kill you."

"Fair enough," Giles conceded. "But then again, I'm the one with the crossbow at the ready."

"Whoa," Devon drawled groggily. "That was something else…"

"Get away from her, boy!"

"What?"

"Get away from Darla!"

The vampire took swift advantage of the exchange, grabbing Devon…

"No!" Giles had already let loose with a crossbow bolt.

Devon, whoever he'd been was dead. Dead at the hand of a stunned Watcher…

"No,"

Now she had her opening. Darla leapt onto the Watcher, clawing at his face. He screamed as her nails drew blood.

She was going to enjoy herself. "Angel!" The younger vampire moved to her side. "Take your share!"

"Sorry Darla," Angel was measured.

"What?"

Angel brought his right arm around Darla's throat. "The man was right," he lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's time for you to stop!"

Darla grimaced and turned her head to face her bloodchild.

"Angel…" she wept as her life faded unto dust…

Angel could not find it within himself to cry, however much he wished to, as he stared at the pile of ash beneath his shoes.

Silently he placed his stake inside his duster.

She had deserved to die.

She was a vampire, evil.

Nothing else mattered, not even his heart.

He held out his hand to Giles. "You gonna stay there all night?"

The Watcher coughed hard. "You killed her…you killed your sire…to save me…"

"It's a long story," Angel said, deadpan. "Long enough for you to bleed to death anyway."

"I'd rather bleed to death…than," Giles sounded out of breath. "Take your help!"

"Your choice," Angel replied without concern. "I'll stop the Harvest alone if I have to. Doesn't bother me…"

The Watcher spat as Angel held him up by his collar.

"But I really don't want to!" Angel told Giles as he delivered a hard left to the face …

With the unconscious man in his arms, Angel walked out into the night…


	18. Epilogue

Epilogue

E_pilogue_

_Sunnydale, 1999 _

Puppy dogs – the ones he remembered from his youth in Galway – roamed wild and free. They were rarely ever punished by the children whom were their masters for in their eyes such animals were love in fur, and therefore never bad, even though they often were. Their little doggy lives were just one big long-playing session with master.

Some were kissed, so maybe a few had their private parts licked by children of an inquisitive nature – children like his own mistress – and the unlucky ones were beaten by the unfeeling.

Yes.

Burns, cage, and the scars of S&M not withstanding, he was a typical little puppy…the puppy of his mistresses' childhood dreaming.

She would be returning soon.

He wanted to die.

Briefly, he recollected his time outside the cage. He had tried to save the world once upon a time. It had been so easy killing the other vampires. He was going to make everything all right for the nice people.

Then The Master rose.

He'd tried his best, he'd even killed Luke, the vessel for The Harvest, but he had been too late.

All he'd done was bring them Hell.

No, this town wasn't Hell. Hell was a place where children frolicked with fluffy bunny rabbits and singing birdies compared to Sunnydale.

In Sunnydale people got dragged from their homes kicking and screaming to end up as blood vending 'machines' for The Bronze. In Sunnydale you lived in constant fear, obeying the Mayor's curfew rules or you died.

_A _life or none at all.

That was the life choice in this town.

Unless, 'The White Hats' found you…

According to his mistress, a small group of High School students banded together a few months after she "brought him home," with the aim of fighting back.

In a way he was flattered by the effort.

But at the end of the day Giles was kidding nobody: a Watcher and a bunch of kids facing up against The Master's army? It was madness.

Still, he persisted in praying for them – the damn fools.

The pain subsiding, he opened his eyes only for them to meet the smug leer of his idiot grandson, Xander.

"What's s'matter Xand?" he laughed, winded. "Want to see what Will likes to do with a _real_ man?"

The vampire just winked back at him.

_Yeah, you just like to jerk off…_he thought exhausted. _Sad Bastard… _

As Willow re-entered, he said nothing.

"Aw," she said. "Did Puppy miss me?"

He grimaced hard as she moved in close to lick his cheek. "Like a hole in the head," he replied spitting in his mistress' eye.

Leather creaking, Willow backed off. "Bad Puppy!"

_My name is Angel. _

"My name is Angel…MY NAME IS ANGEL!" he roared in defiance.

But he soon screamed.

Bad puppies always howled….


End file.
